To Have and Hold
by poliwonk
Summary: Thomas Boleyn wants to ensure his daughter's crown so he comes up with an ingenious scheme to ensure the loyalty of the one person who could challenge her.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One – The Betrothal

May 1533

Many men in Thomas Boleyn's position would have been well satisfied with themselves. His daughter was married to the King and expecting a child, while her rival was safely tucked away in an old dank manor befitting a woman who dared to challenge her sovereign. But Thomas Boleyn was not a man to rest on his laurels. Anne's position must be secured and until she gave birth to a child, a son, it would not be. His solution to the problem had a certain simple elegance to it. It would pacify the Lady Mary, show her exactly what her position was, and if the worse should come to pass and Anne failed, he would have covered his gamble.

Entering the hall of the Moor, Thomas Boleyn was announced to the Dowager Princess.

"Your Highness" Thomas said while doffing his cap and making a bow. She may not have the title of Queen, but as the widow of Prince Arthur she was entitled to his respect.

"You mistake yourself, Sir Thomas. I am the wife of your King and Queen of this country." Katherine of Aragon sat in a chair by the fire, her voice firm and confident.

"I have not come to argue with you Ma'am or to make any further entreaties, though I once again remind you that it would go easier for you if you were to agree to the King's proposal to renounce your claim and enter a religious community." He coughed slightly. "As you know, the Archbishop of Canterbury has pronounced your marriage to the King null and void and pronounce the marriage of the King to Queen Anne good and valid. That is not the subject of my visit. I have come to tell you that your daughter Mary is to be married."

"Married? To whom? The Emperor is married. Has the King agreed to wed her to the Dauphin?" Her voice had a slight agitation to it, though it maintained its firmness.

"No, Ma'am." He could not help but allow a small smile to play upon his face as he let slip the next few words. "The Lady Mary is to be married to my son." He could see the Dowager Princess's face fall and her breathing become faster and shallower while the muscles in her face tensed in an attempt to retain t heir poise. "The King has graciously invested me with the title of Duke of Wiltshire and my son will hold the courtesy title of Earl of Ormonde."

"But why? How could he?" Katherine clenched her fists and seemed to shake. "My daughter is a princess, she has royal blood in her veins, the granddaughter of Ferdinand and Isabelle of Spain! She is not the daughter of some country gentleman to be thrown away on the grandson of a merchant! This cannot be so. I do not allow it to be. "

"I am sorry Your Highness, but the King has commanded it."

"Leave me now! I will right to the King about this. He will see that he cannot treat his own daughter in such a way."

"As you wish." With that Thomas Boleyn bowed and left the Moor knowing that his family was that much more secure.

* * *

><p>The Countess of Salisbury looked on as her charge practiced the virginals. She allowed her a few more moments before she interrupted. She knew that music was one of the few refuges left to the young girl in these turbulent times and she was coming to bring her even more distressing news.<p>

"Your highness?" Lady Margaret bowed as she entered the room. Mary stopped playing and turned to greet her.

"Lady Salisbury."

"Your playing continues to improve." She smiled softly as she approached and knelt beside the princess.

"Thank you. You look concerned my lady governess, have you some news? Is it my mother? Has the King agreed to let me see her?" Her face remained calm but there was a light in her eyes that told the Countess she was far from easy.

"Unfortunately, no. If you do not mind, Your Highness, Ambassador Chapuys is here and the King has permitted him to give you the news."

For the first time, Mary looked over at the door and noticed her mother's old friend and advisor his forehead furrowed and his face long. Chapuys approached the Mary and as she held out her hand kissed it lightly.

"Ambassador, please, it is quite clear you have some grave news for me. Tell it quick or I fear my apprehension shall over come me."

"Your highness – I – I am grieved to tell you that your father, the King, shows no signs of abandoning his whore, or of returning to the true Church. He has, in fact, brought her family into even greater heights and given her father the title of Duke of Whiltshire." Mary frowned at this. "But this is not the news I have come to bring you. It is the King's wish that you are to wed the Lady Anne's brother, George Boleyn."

The air suddenly seemed to leave the room and Mary felt dizzy and light headed.

"That is not possible! Ambassador, it can't be true! My father would not be so cruel as to wed me to one so low!"

Chapuys shook his head. "I'm afraid Your Highness that it is indeed true. Your father announced it to me himself, with of course the Whore present."

Mary tried to contain the swirl of emotions engulfing her. "If it is true than my father is certainly bewitched." At this she took Chapuys hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. "My dear Ambassador, please tell what I should do? I can't marry him. Please tell me that you can arrange to take my mother and I to Spain and the safety of my cousin!"

Chapuys sighed. "I wish I could do so Your Highness, but alas, the Emperor can offer no help. His war with the King of France is such that he cannot afford to anger your father by giving either you or your mother sanctuary." He could see the tears threatening to spill from Mary's eyes. "But, please, Your Highness, do not look so sad. I can tell you that even if there is a service performed here by one of these heretic priests, the Pope will not recognize it. So long as you keep from consummating the union, once the King finally tires of his concubine and her family is in disgrace, he will return to the true Church and there will be no marriage."

Mary took a deep breath that made her chest shudder and Chapuys handed her a hankerchief to wipe her eyes.

"Now, what is essential, Your Highness is that after the ceremony you repair to your own room and keep your door barred – every night. Always ensure that there is a lady with you, for I have heard that this young man is not above taking a woman by force."

Mary nodded her understanding.

"And do not worry. It will not be long before your father returns to his rightful mind and this will all be a dim memory. With that, Your Highness, I'm afraid I must return to Whitehall."

Mary rose to see the Ambassador out. "Thank you Ambassador. I will pay head to all you have told me."

Chapuys bowed his head. "Your Highness."

As he left the room, Mary felt herself fall back on to the stool in front of the piano. She would need all her powers of will to face the coming trial.

* * *

><p>George Boleyn knew the day would come when his father would announce that he had found someone to be his bride. His marriage would cement some familial alliance and further whatever interest his father had in mind. He did not know that the alliance would be between his family and the Crown and the interest would be to secure his sister's position as Queen. George sighed as he knocked on the door to his sister's chambers and was greeted by Madge Shelton.<p>

"I've come to see the Queen." Madge helpfully led him over to Anne who was sitting by a fire stitching a shirt for the poor. "So" he said, looking on at her work "doing charity?"

"You sound surprised?" Anne said with a small pout. "I have to do something to win over the King's subjects."

"Indeed." George nodded and took a seat opposite her. "I've heard the latest ditty on the street they've written about you. Not very flattering."

Anne frowned at his comment.

"So, dear sister, have you heard the news? I'm to be married." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"So I have and I'm terribly sorry." The turn in conversation seemed to cheer Anne as she let out a slight chuckle. "Well, at least as her husband you can do what I cannot and box her ears when she misbehaves."

George rolled his eyes. "Come now Anne, that's no way to speak to me about my future wife."

"Well what do you expect me to say? She practically called me a whore to my face, no doubt she says it in private." Anne scowled at the thought of her mutinous stepdaughter.

"And here I thought you didn't care what people said."

"I don't, but Mary could cause my son and I trouble with her obstinacy." At this Anne placed a hand delicately on her stomach to emphasize her condition. "Besides what am I supposed to do? I've offered to reconcile her to the King."

George raised an eyebrow at this.

"All right perhaps I wasn't entirely genuine, but had she agreed to recognize me as Queen I would have been bound to follow through."

"Yes, well you are the soul of generosity sister." Anne pursed her lips at his quip. "Well I must away to father. He no doubt wants to give me instructions on my upcoming nuptials." He kissed Anne on the cheek and left her chambers. He was proud of his intelligent and witty sister, proud of all she had accomplished. But he also knew it had come at a cost to others and – for all her flippancy – he knew Anne understood that too. George wasn't sure what to think of his future wife. No doubt she viewed him as a mortal enemy and would do her best to let him know just how low a regard she held him. She was also little more than a child, a child whose world had been turned upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews for my first chapter. I was so pleasantly surprised to get the support for what is a somewhat odd pairing. Yes – I admit the George I'm writing is OOC from the show. From what I've read there is limited evidence that George Boleyn was gay – I think only Retha Warnicke has supported that theory – so I'm going with the (admittedly heteronormative) assumption that he was straight. Also from what I've read, George was as involved in the reformed movement as Anne. The rumors that he was a rapist also seemed to have come more from the traditional Boleyn enemies than any truth – though he was said to be quite charming.

Anyway, on with the story

June 1533 – Whitehall

Anne sat brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Six years – it had taken more than six years – since the King had proposed for her to rise to where she was today. She was wife of the King of England, future mother of a Prince of Wales and now the Queen of England. Now with the forth-coming wedding of her brother to the Lady Mary her position would be secure. For who would attack her family if it meant attacking Lady Mary?

Anne was well aware that there were many who clung to the Dowager Princess and her daughter. She still shuddered at the thought of her near escape from an angry mob of London wives who attempted to attack her. She had been dining at the home of some friends when the clamoring harpies baying for her blood overwhelmed the guard. Luckily a nearby boat had provided a quick escape. Anne had to admit that Catherine was a worthy foe who was more than a match for her. She often thought the Dowager Princess was smarter than the Henry and had told him as much in a moment of frustration.

While Catherine and Mary lived there would always be those who doubted her right to the crown and her son's right to inherit his father's throne. Not that Anne would do anything to speed their death along. Blame for their deaths would naturally fall upon her and then neither she – nor her son – would never win the people's affection. But that didn't mean she wouldn't keep them closely observed and away from those who could aid them. Which was why her father's plan to wed Lady Mary to her brother was well played. Although she hated to see her brother used in her father's games, she could no longer thinking as just a woman – but as a mother. She would protect her child – no matter the cost. At that moment a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her interrupting her reverie.

"My Queen." Henry said as he placed delicate kiss upon her shoulder. "And how does my son do today?"

"Very well, your majesty" Anne ran her hand over her gently swelling stomach. "So, have you decided on a home to grant the newlyweds?"

"I thought that the Beaulieu House would do nicely, don't you?"

"Indeed, it is perfectly suitable to the Earl and Countess of Ormond. I am glad to hear that Lady Mary seems willing to obey you in this – even if she is unwilling to obey you in your other commands."

"She will come around eventually. When you have given England the son and heir it requires, she will see that I was right." Henry ran a hand through Anne's hair and then softly stroked her neck.

"And until then George will be able to control her." Anne could not see Henry's face but she could feel the tension creep into his hands as she said this.

"Mary may not be my lawful daughter but she is still the daughter of a King and I hope that your brother will treat her with all the respect her position commands."

Anne stood at this and turned to face Henry.

"My brother is a gentleman, you need not be afraid of him." Anne then turned her back to Henry and began to walk towards her chamber. "As you seem to think so lowly of my family, perhaps you no longer wish me to remain in your presence, I shall retire for the evening."

At that Henry took her arm, gently but firmly.

"Darling you know I meant no offense to your brother. But Mary is my daughter. I will see her bend to my will, but I do not wish to see her mistreated. Come now, let us be friends and tell me about your day."

Henry led Anne to a nearby seat and Anne placed her head on his shoulder. She must trust Henry and his love for her; there was nothing else to be done.

Charles Brandon was unable to comprehend what possessed his friend the King to proceed with this absurd decision to wed his daughter, the heir to his throne, to George Boleyn. Was it simply to please that bitch, Anne? The woman had already torn England apart and caused immeasurable pain to a good woman. Would she stoop so low as to place a young girl at the mercy of that wolf?

There must be a solution, some way to save Mary from this fate. He had tried to reason with the King, make him see that the only safety he would find for his throne was to reconsider this foolishness. He knew that Henry would never give Anne up so long as he believed there was a chance that she would give him a male heir. So until Anne was delivered of her child, no move could be made against her. And if, G-d forbid, Anne were delivered of a son – she and her devil's horde of a family would be unassailable. The very thought made Charles shiver down to core.

There were some, silent though they maybe, who continued to support Queen Catherine and Princess Mary, those who believe that there could be a better life if only Anne were out of the way. Charles knew that Ambassador Chapuys was still quietly and discreetly working on the Queen's behalf. While he may not be able to stop the marriage from occurring perhaps together, with likeminded supporters, they could minimize its damage and see that Anne and her machinations would fail.

With that, Charles took out a scroll of paper and began to write a note to the Ambassador. He knew that if the King discovered he was corresponding with Chapuys, it could be construed as treason, but Charles was passed care, or maybe he was simply a reckless man. He had already risked Henry's ire with his marriage to his sister and barely escaped with his life, this could place his case past all hope. Mary* was still banned from court and currently ill at home. But Charles didn't care – he couldn't see how a man could treat his good wife so appallingly.

"Will you come back to bed Your Grace?" A voice cooed from behind him, interrupting his stream of thought.

"In a minute, Joan, I must just finish this letter."

"Well finish quickly, I'm ready for another go around."

_Dear Ambassador Chapuys,_

_I know that until now you and I have not spoken on the issue of Queen Katherine and her daughter, the Princess Mary. But recent events of which you are aware have compelled me to seek you out. I believe that something must be done to protect the Queen and Princess from the Boleyn faction and that together we can accomplish that end. Send me a note via my personal squire, who I am sure is trustworthy, of when we can meet and talk in private._

_His Grace,_

_Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk_

Normally, Mary's her fingers would do the work without question, never faltering, never failing her till now. She was to be married tomorrow and she wanted, more than anything to find some peace in the final hours before she was forced to knit her soul to a man she despised. She wanted to play her virginals but she could not.

"Your Highness? Princess Mary?" The Countess of Salisbury placed a gentle hand upon her charge's shoulder. "Are you well, child?"

"I am fine, Lady Pole." Mary could feel her breath catch as she tried to reassure her Governess. "You were married for many years, Lady Pole, what – what is it like, to be a wife. What does a husband expect of you?"

The Countess sat next to her charge on the bench in front of the virginals.

"Well, you will be in charge of his household, which means you will be in charge of the servants and the household budget."

Mary sighed.

"I know all of this, but what – what about a husband's other requirements? What will he expect of me there? Is there any way I can refuse him?"

"You mean refuse your husband the marriage bed?"

"Yes, that is what I intend to do. As Minister Chapuys said, if I can keep myself chaste, once the King, my father, tires of his mistress and returns to my mother the marriage can be annulled and my father will be free to arrange for me a true marriage, worthy of my position as the heir to the throne of England."

"Well, Your Highness, you must proceed carefully. A husband naturally expects to share his wife's bed and for her to provide him with an heir-"

"Of course, Lady Sailsbury, I know all this. What I ask is, whether it is possible? Are there husbands and wives who do not share their wedding bed?"

"I- well I have never heard of one. Usually a husband finds a way to claim his rights."

"That is what I feared. What if I had one a servant who I kept with me, or I barred my door to him?"

"Perhaps, but on your wedding night, you will be escorted to the bridal chamber and there will be no one else there. Should he decide to make you submit there will be no way to deny him."

Mary's began to feel nauseous as her stomach fluttered. Suddenly there was a knock on the door causing Mary to jump.

"Enter." Mary smoothed her skirt and her hair and attempted to regain her composure.

"Your Highness." The maid knelt and handed her a letter. She grabbed at it eager to see her father's seal, something to indicate that the marriage was called off. But what she found instead was the impression of a pomegranate. Her mother had managed to send her a letter.

"Lady Salisbury, would you mind if I read this letter in private?"

"Of course, your highness." With the Countess rose and knelt the room before leaving Mary alone.

_My Dearest Daughter,_

_I know that you must be feeling great trepidation at this moment. But I write to urge you to have faith. These trials only serve to strengthen one's faith in G-d and his Church. I know that you will be a dutiful child, as you have always been, and a credit to His Majesty. Just remember my child to always keep yourself as chaste as the Holy Virgin for whom you are named, until such time as G-d shall provide you with an honorable marriage. Do that and I shall never feel sorrow. You are my greatest joy. Do not fear for me, I am in G-d's care and whatever injustices are heaped against me, I shall continue to trust in him. _

_I love you with all of my soul._

_Katherine, Queen of England_

Mary kissed her mother's name as tears rolled down her cheeks. She would not fail her mother, even if she had to take a knife with her to bed every night. The Boleyn family would not win.

He should be nervous. Weren't most people anxious before they wed? But George's anxiety was of an entirely different variety. He was marrying the daughter of a King, bastard or not, she was of royal blood. He had seen his future wife many times, since she was very little. He had to admit that she had grown into an entirely enchanting young woman, such that any husband would be proud to have.

His family's security and his sister's throne depended upon his ability to ensure that Mary did not pose a threat. But how? He did not wish to harm her. He knew of a particularly nasty rumor written by George Cavendish that he had forced himself upon women. While he had to admit he was not entirely honorable when it came to the fairer sex, having sampled the favors of several young maids at court, they had all been willing. A few had even had more experience than he! Besides, even if he were inclined to take advantage, the she would likely tell her father who would hardly look favorably upon a man who treated his daughter thus.

So how to proceed - Was he to befriend her? Make her fall in love with him? No, he doubted that either of those would work. Mary was not a fool and she was not likely to trust him. So, he was to be her jailer than, monitor her communications and visitors. It seemed a thankless job for a man who had been educated to serve as an emissary in foreign courts and advisor to the King. But, he would keep to his word and keep his sister safe.

Of course, it was not all bad. At least such an indifferent wife as Mary was likely to prove would be unlikely to chide him for seeking out the company of more willing companions. With that thought on his mind, George lay back in his pillows and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Tomorrow would require all of his energy.

.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! I'm busy studying for the bar exam so reviews are about the only ego strokes I'm getting at this point! I forgot to mention that I'm using more traditional history, so the Duke of Suffolk's wife is Mary, not Margaret (I'll try to keep it from getting confusing by denoting which Mary I'm talking about – since, Anne's sister is also a Mary AND eventually – waaaay down the line – I'll be adding one more Mary from history).

Another note, for those of you wondering, I had imagined George looking like Matthew Goode rather than Padraic Delany.

* * *

><p>June 1533 – Whitehall Palace<p>

It would be impossible for Mary to find any fault with her wedding trousseau. The gown was a lovely cream with golden thread while the bodice and neckline were strewn with pearls.

_How appropriate, she thought, given that her father had often referred to her as his pearl – but that seemed a million years ago. _

However, any pleasure she took in her magnificent gown was overwhelmed by the knowledge that she would be wearing it to wed a man she despised and that her father's mistress had designed it. Anne had informed Mary as much this morning when she came in ostensibly to see how the preparations were coming along.

"_I hope you like the gown, Lady Mary. I had it designed specifically with you in mind. I was sure that this color would look well with your complexion and I hoped the pearls would be a remembrance of your father." Anne's voice had a light cheeriness to it as she glided around the room, circling Mary and examining the gown as several ladies helped her into it._

_Mary knew she should give Anne her thanks and say nothing else, but something in her rebelled. Perhaps it was the way Anne's lip seemed to quirk up on one side in a half smile or a look in her eyes that seemed fired with triumph. Or perhaps it was the fact that Anne had referred to her as Lady Mary, when by all rights she was a Princess._

"_Thank you, it is good of my father's mistress to give me such kind attentions."_

_With that Anne's look had turned dark and left the room with the ladies in attendance bowing as she stalked out._

Mary's small sense of victory had not lasted long when she considered how her father would react when he was told. Now she waited in her chamber for him to escort to the royal chapel. Nervously she fidgeted with her gown, a habit she had thought she outgrew long ago. But at last she heard the cries of "make way for the king" along side the scuffling of many feet. The door opened and Mary made a deep bow.

"My dear pearl! Come, let me see you!"

Mary rose and her father took her hands in his and stepped back. She kept her eyes down cast until her father placed his hand under her chin. He was resplendent in a doublet of deep blue velvet with silver thread.

"You look beautiful! I hope you have thanked your the Queen properly for taking such care in your trousseau?"

Mary's heart skipped a beat at this. Of course Anne would complain to her father of what she had said this morning.

"Yes, your majesty. She was very generous."

"Good! Good!" Her father looked genuinely pleased. Perhaps, Mary was mistaken and Anne had said nothing? But that was impossible. Anne would not have missed a chance to place her in a bad light before her father. He must be waiting then for a more private moment before he chastised her. That was equally unlikely though. He would not waste an opportunity to make it clear where his darling stood, even at Mary's expense – Anne would not let him. So she must not have told him, no doubt waiting for an opportune moment. Mary would have to consider that later.

"Well, our guests and the bridegroom are waiting, so we must away to the chapel!" With that her father took her arm in his and led her out of the room towards the chapel.

Mary had never felt so small.

* * *

><p>The royal chapel at the Palace of Whitehall was lavish, everything either marble or gold, gilded in jewels, as it was intended for the use of the monarch and those within the royal circle. Attendance at the ceremony included those the King wished to favor and a few upon whom he hoped to impress the reality of the regime. As such, the first pew naturally held Anne, attired in a blue velvet gown that matched the King, her growing belly fully on display for all. Behind her was the Duke of Suffolk, attending alone as his wife was far to ill to travel to Court, along with the fact that she was still under banishment for daring to wed without her brother's consent. Seated next to him was Duke of Norfolk, Anne's uncle on he mother's side. The former Chancellor, Thomas More was as conspicuously absent as he had been from Anne's coronation earlier in the month.<p>

George stood at the altar with is father behind him ready to pin him in place, he imagined, should he try to run. But George had no intention of fleeing – he understood perfectly well what this marriage meant to his family and he did not wish to disappoint Anne. She had taken great care in arranging everything for this day, down to his doublet which was cream and gold with pearl button, naturally intended to match is bride. He shifted on his feet as he waited.

As he turned slightly to Anne, giving her a small smile that she returned, the doors of the chapel opened and all were at their feet.

Looking down the aisle he saw his bride. He mentally cursed Archbishop Cranmer for being overzealous with the incense because he was sure the smell had produced the slight flutter he felt in his chest and the weakness in his knees. The soft light coming through the chapel's windows and from the candles in the aisles set off the gauziness of Mary's veil and produced a glow about her, while her auburn hair hung loose about her waist. As the King led her to the alter George noticed how small and delicate she was, nearly a foot shorter than him and slender.

George barely heard the Archbishop Cranmer begin the service or the King respond affirmatively when asked, "who gives this woman?", try as he might he could not shift his focus from the figure beside him. When her hand was placed in his it seemed tiny in comparison and trembled with nerves. He was shaken from his reverie in time enough to say "I do so swear" and to hear the pronouncement of "man and wife" and then they processed out of the chapel towards the great hall and the wedding feast.

* * *

><p>The entire service went by in a blur for Mary. She managed to say the right words at the right time but little else made an impression on her. Now she sat on the dais with her father on her left and her new husband to her right, whose gaze she studiously avoided. Instead she focused on the numerous well wishers who came forward to wish the "happy couple" luck.<p>

The musicians played and soon a troupe of dancers was brought in to perform a masque with most of the women were dressed as nymphs while one was dressed as the goddess Daphne. The pranced around the center of the hall while a dwarf was brought in dressed as Eros.

Mary knew the story of Daphne having read it in the original Greek:

_Apollo, after insulting Cupid, was shot by the love god with an arrow, making him fall in love with Daphne. At the same time, the love god also sent an arrow into Daphne making her hate Apollo in turn. So Apollo chased Daphne, begging for her love, while Daphne, wishing to remain chase, spurned his advances. Tiring from the chase, and fearing for her virtue, Daphne begged the gods to save her, so they turned her into a laurel. Apollo, overcome with sadness, promised to tend to the tree for the rest of his life. _

Amusing herself with thoughts of turning into a tree, Mary suddenly noticed that the dance had come to an end and there was silence in the hall indicating that the guests were awaiting the King's toast.

"If you would all raise your glasses to the happy couple!"

"The happy couple!" the hall rang out. Simultaneously, a cheer arose for a dance. With that the King motioned for Mary and George to lead. Mary was grateful that she could concentrate on the dance and continue to ignore her husband. They clasped hands and Mary allowed her mind to focus on the music, counting the time to measure her steps.

A few times, when the dance called for it, Mary looked into George's eyes. He was not unfortunate looking, in fact, were he not a Boleyn, she would even have considered handsome. He had his sister's dark hair and more olive colored complexion. He was tall, nearly a foot taller than her, and well formed with broad shoulders. She could tell while they danced that his hands were strong, engulfing her own when he held it. There was also a stray lock of hair that occasional fell down onto his forehead, making him seem younger than his years, before he unconsciously brushed it back.

Unlike his sister though, his eyes were soft, with a gentle warmth in them rather than Anne's dark forbidding hooks. She was sure there was many a maid who had been led astray by those eyes, but she would not be one of them.

Eventually, the dance finished and they returned to their seats while the other guests remained on the floor for another set. When she returned to the dais Mary looked on with barely disguised disdain as her father and Anne cooed at each other. Anne, smiling and laughing at her father's jokes while he feed her strawberries from his plate. Mary could feel her blood beginning to boil as she watched them. She wanted to overturn the table and shout that the seat by the King was her mother's, to drag Anne from dais by her hair shame her in front of everyone assembled. But before she boiled over in rage, a voice beside her spoke up:

"Are you well Lady Mary?" George asks. "Can I refill you glass?"

It was enough to allow Mary to regain her composure and she managed to settle her mind again.

"No, thank you. I am quite well." She said, continuing to look ahead.

Mary's head began to throb with the continued effort to appear cheery and smile, but eventually the festivities appeared to end. Suddenly she found herself caught between relief that she would no longer have to feign pleasantries and fear that she would now be forced into a room alone with George Boleyn. But Mary had no choice as Anne took her arm and led her up to the bridal chamber where the Queen's ladies in waiting would change her into a nightshirt and cap.

* * *

><p>As George stood ready at the door to the bridal chamber his father approached him.<p>

"George, listen to me. You know how important this marriage is marriage is to our family, to your sister?"

"Yes father, as you've reminded me on several occasions."

"Don't be smart with me! You have to sleep with her tonight, consummate the marriage tonight."

George looked as his father and rolled his eyes.

"Well I'm hardly going to force myself on the girl, father."

"I don't give a damn if you seduce her, beg her, or throw her down upon the bed take her, George just do it!"

"Whatever you say father." George replied through gritted teeth. With that he opened the door to find a shaking figured sitting upon the bed pointing a candlestick at him.

* * *

><p>As Anne's ladies in waiting removed her wedding gown they she tried to steady her mind as the other women nattered on about the evening. They talked about how handsome Sir Such-and-Such was. How unbecoming Lay So-and-So's gown was. How fat Lord This had gotten and how old Lady That was. Mary ignored them and their comments until their conversation turned to her.<p>

"Your very lucky Lady Mary" Madge Shelton said. "Everyone things that the Earl of Ormond is an exceedingly handsome man."

"Yes, I suppose he is." Mary replied noncommittally. They pulled her night shirt over her head and Nan Saville braided her hair placing a daisy at the bottom.

"There's many a lady who would love to be in your shoes tonight."

Mary let out a sigh. "Would that they were, Mistress Saville", she replied under her breath.

Soon the ladies were done with their preparations, and a knock came at the door, which then opened revealing her father.

"Mary, my pearl, you have made me very proud today. You have grown into such a beautiful young woman."

Mary kept her head down. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Come now, we musn't keep you husband waiting on your wedding night!" Once again, as he had hour earlier, King Henry took his daughters arm in his, but this time he led her to the door of the bridal chamber. Kissing her on her forehead, the King then opened the door to the chamber. "Be always a loving and obedient wife to your husband, and I shall never blush to call you my daughter."

"Yes, Your Majesty." With that she walked into the chamber and the door closed behind her. Suddenly, Mary realized that she had neglected to bring the knife with her from dinner. She glanced around the room, looking at fixtures and bits of furniture, for something she could use as a weapon. At last her eyes came upon the heavy silver candlesticks that stood on the bedside table. Clamoring onto the bed she snuffed out the candle and pulled it from the holder. Her hands shook as the door opposite from the one she had used opened to reveal her husband.

* * *

><p>George couldn't help himself. The sight of such a tiny figure holding out a candlestick to valiantly defend her honor, struck him as oddly charming and he could not help but let out a chuckle.<p>

"Don't laugh at me!" Mary cried out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." He smiled as he looked at her, fiercely guarding her territory.

As he moved further away from the door, Mary's grip on the candlestick tightened.

"Don't you come anywhere near me!" Mary's voice trembled

He put up his hands to show that he came in peace. "Look, I'm going to go over here to the desk." He walked to the desk by the windows across the room from the bed. "Perhaps, it would be best if tonight I slept here in this chair." He pulled out the chair from behind the desk and turned it so that it faced the bed and sat down. "Quite comfortable, actually." He patted the armrests. "Truly, I believe if everyone had a chair like this no one would bother to sleep in a bed." He then made a great show of settling himself into the chair. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather switch places? I could take the bed and you the chair?"

Mary glared back at him.

"Yes, well, your loss." With that George closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm rather exhausted, so I thought I'd just sit here and fall asleep."

Mary looked back at him suspiciously. She wasn't sure if this was a trick or not. Was he simply waiting until she fell asleep before he took advantage of her? Mary settled back onto the pillows of the bed, her hands clutching the candlestick. She intended to stay away all night, if need be to insure that, should he decide to molest her, she could defend herself. About 15 minutes passed before Mary heard a low soft snore coming from the chair, but she would not be drawn in. She would keep her vigil up. Mary's eyes began to feel heavy. She tried to fight the sleep that she knew was coming, but the pillows were soft and her aching muscles cried out for rest.

* * *

><p>Before she knew it, Mary was awoken by the daylight streaming through the window and some larks singing outside. The candlestick was still clutched in her hands and he body was untouched. Looking over at the chair Mary could see George still there head curled to one side and legs laid out in front of him. She felt a twinge of pity for him; it could not have been a very comfortable rest. She wasn't sure what had possessed him to leave her unharmed last night, but she was grateful.<p>

She swung her feet down over the side of the bed and went over to the chair. Tapping him on the shoulder, Mary stepped back a pace or two as George slowly opened his eyes and stretched out his long limbs, and let out an expansive yawn.

"Good morning, My Lady." Placing a hand on his back George winced. "Oof! As comfortable as my chair has been, I will be grateful for a good night's rest in a bed of my own."

"We are to leave this morning?" Mary asked quietly.

"Yes, as soon as we've breakfasted, our escort will be made up for Beaulieu where we shall make our home."

Mary's shuddered. Despite his gentlemanly behavior the previous evening, she still did not believe she could trust this man. He was a Boleyn, after all. No doubt he had some plan, some scheme that involved her. Alone and isolated from Court, Mary feared for her future, but to Beaulieu her father ordered her and to there she would go.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – A Palace is not a Home

Beaulieu Palace – June 1536

The trip from Whitehall to Beaulieu took a full day of travel. Mary watched from inside the carriage as the landscape changed from the bustle of the city to the nearby towns and villages and finally to the sparsely populated countryside. The moon had just begun to rise in the sky when they arrived at Beaulieu. Mary wasn't expecting much. Anne would hardly have seen Mary living in a grand palace, but she was surprised by how charming a manor it was. The gray stone building was large, but not overwhelming and the land from the entry had a lovely small garden that she assumed was only a small portion of the estate's grounds. Unfortunately, it was too late for her to more fully examine her new home. Instead she guided inside by the servants who had been provided for them.

The housekeeper, Mistress Keppel, led Mary to her chambers while describing the history of the home and how many families had lived there. Exhausted, Mary was grateful to find that her bed was already made up and, when asked by Mistress Keppel if she would care to be readied for bed, she submitted to her ministrations without complaint.

After she was dressed in her nightshirt and her hair braided, Mistress Keppel gave her a bow and left her to her own devices. Mary felt terribly lonely. She knew no one here. The servants were unfamiliar and Lady Pole had been refused her request to accompany them. In fact the only familiar face in her new home was that of her husband. Mary frowned at the thought. She was isolated an unprotected. Despite his seeming kindness last night, Mary hardly felt the desire to trust George Boleyn. She took a chair from the table by the window, and pressed it against the door, under the handle so that it would not open, or if that did not work she would at least have warning.

Clutching her candlestick, Mary settled herself under the covers and tried to stay awake in case of an attack. Eventually though, her eyes grew heavy and her body gave into the exhaustion she felt.

* * *

><p>George was pleased with his new estate. Large, but manageable, Beaulieu would certainly bring him a tidy income and it was pleasantly situated on the river. When he awoke his first morning there, before he went in to breakfast, he toured the garden, ambling through a path of blooming rose bushes. Looking up from the center of the courtyard he could see the windows that looked out from Mary's room. He wondered if she was awake yet and if she was clinging to a candlestick as she had the previous night when they shared a room.<p>

He chuckled as he thought of her on the bed pointing a candlestick at him, fiercely defending her virtue. He had to admit that he was oddly charmed by her determination. Most young women he came across were willowy, fragile creatures, but Mary seemed to have an inner steal, uncommon for a noble lady.

Finished with his walk, George turned back inside and walked into the hall where a table had been laid for breakfast. He had no sooner seated himself at the table when his bride entered.

Mary was momentarily startled to find George already at the table but she quickly regained her composure and seated herself at the opposite end.

The hall seemed to fairly ring with a deafening silence for what seemed like hours until George decided that the lack of any conversation was more than a little awkward.

"So, how did you find your chambers? Did you sleep well?"

Mary simply glared at him refusing to engage in whatever kind of game he was attempting to play.

"Right, of course. I also find that silence is best during meals. Better for the digestion. Though I do find it make it much more difficult to acquaint oneself with a dining companion. Perhaps I should attempt to hold the conversation for both of us? 'How did you sleep?' 'Quite well thank you, and you?' 'Like a newborn babe.'"

Mary had to force her face into a frown as the sight of a man holding forth a conversation all on his own was more than a little amusing.

"What exactly do you think your doing?" She forced herself to think more of her frustration than his general demeanor.

"Merely trying to have a conversation."

"We have nothing to say to each other." Mary busied herself again with her breakfast, taking a sip of wine.

"Generally, I find that when two people have nothing to discuss, they engage in light conversation, and eventually they find something to discuss."

Mary placed her hands on her lap and looked straight at George. "Perhaps I should rephrase, I meant to say I do not wish to say anything to you."

"I understand. I simply thought that, eventhough you do not particularly wish to be here, we could at least attempt to be pleasant to each other. You know, make the best of a bad situation."

Pleasant to one another, Mary considered it. Here she was isolated, without her old friend Lady Margaret, or any other familiar faces. In fact, George was the only person with whom she was at all familiar. Suddenly, she felt incredibly lonely and the thought of a pleasant dining companion not a little tempting. And what was more, she was a princess, trained in the art of diplomacy and dealing with those she might not otherwise wish to. She could at least hold forth light conversation with the man opposite her.

"Of course. I'm sorry for my temper. Perhaps we have gotten off to a poor beginning. How did you sleep?

"Very well thank you. I found my bed a good deal more comfortable than a chair."

Mary made a small smile. "I should have thanked you sooner for that. I was very gentlemanly of you."

George noticed that when she smiled Mary had very appealing dimples in her cheeks. The strange fluttery feeling he had in his chest at the chapel two days ago returned and he coughed as he sipped his wine. "Not at all. It was the least I could do. Besides I didn't wish to have my head bashed in with a candlestick." George's smile was broad and warm. It might have been the effect of the wine, but Mary suddenly felt a little more at ease she let out a light laugh. Yes, she could at least find George company even while she did not trust him.

* * *

><p>Examining her accommodations at court Jane Parker was distinctly displeased. Not only was she forced to share with other ladies-in-waiting, but also the room was musty and cold. She missed her family and she detested the thought of having to wait on Queen Anne. She and George had long ago been engaged to be married. But when Anne caught the King's eye and the family's fortunes were on the rise, a connection to the Parker family was no longer as desirable. Thomas Boleyn would not settle for anything less than an Earl's daughter for his son and now it appeared that George had married the daughter of a King.<p>

Jane was now a spinster and appeared likely to remain that way. Her father had sent her to Court in the hopes that she would be able to attract some nobleman. She had little success so far, only the occasional flirtation, but no one who seemed genuinely interest. She blamed the Boleyn family for her current situation and quietly hoped that somehow in the future their overweening ambition would be paid back.

Unfortunately, Jane saw no possibility of brining about their ruin, not while Anne was pregnant and confidently expecting a son. But the other day Ambassador Chapuys approached her during one of the masques at court.

"_Am I correct in believing that you find any more enjoyment in these spectacles than I do, Mistress Jane?"_

_Jane was standing off to the side of the chamber watching the King and Queen in case she was needed._

"_No, I find them quite distasteful." _

"_Or, perhaps, like me, you find the woman who arranges them distasteful?" Chapuys stopped to sip from the goblet of wine and turned his back from the dancing so that he was directly facing her._

"_I do not believe that it is proper for me to say. I am one of her ladies-in-waiting."_

"_That is true, but I am aware of the deplorable manner in which her family has treated you. You should know, mistress, that you are not alone in wishing her gone. There are others, some quite powerful-" at this he glanced in the direction of the Duke of Suffolk – "who are merely waiting for an opportune moment."_

_Jane turned away and began walking towards the back of the room. "Is that so, Ambassador? And what of your master, the Emperor."_

_Chapuys followed her. "My master is currently embroiled in his conflict with France and cannot risk His Majesty, the King's anger by taking any steps against his Concubine. But, I am sure he would look favorably upon those who, of their own volition, helps to end her reign._

That had been the extent of their conversation, but it had not taken much for Jane to understand his meaning. As a lady-in-waiting, Jane was privy to many of Anne's private moments and she was sure she could find something, even the most seemingly innocent, and turn it to her advantage. For her pains, she was sure that not only the Emperor, but the King and the whole of England would give her thanks.

* * *

><p>The months after their marriage had passed easily enough for Mary, and, in spite of herself, she found she enjoyed George's company. He could tell a witty story quite well and they enjoyed some of the same books.<p>

Their days were usually spent in separate pursuits, George visiting the farmers and other yeomen of the area, and Mary reading or keeping the household accounts. But at breakfast and supper, they would spend together in the hall. They would frequently discuss their day. Mary would review what she had read, and once they engaged in a lively debate over Plato's Republic. They did, however, avoid any mention of religion. The one attempt they had made ended disastrously.

"_You know some of the books shelved in your library are heretical and have been banned by the Holy Father?" Mary noted between bites of her dinner._

"_Certainly G-d has not come down an issued an edict regarding books? George responded with a raised eyebrow._

_Mary pursed her lips. "You know to whom I was referring. The Pope has declared those books as heretical."_

"_And yet the King himself reads them."_

"_The King is not the head of the Church!"_

"_Bless me, I thought that was what the Act of Supremacy declared him." George wiped his mouth with a nearby cloth._

"_A King can call declare many things but that does not make it so!" George should have sensed the warning in her statement that they were straying too far from the academic into the personal. It was clear which declaration Mary was referring to – and it was not the Act of Supremacy._

"_A Pope can declare many things but he is still only the Bishop of Rome."_

"_The Bishop of Rome is the heir of St. Peter – the head of the Church! He is the final authority on the souls of its members!"_

"_And can a King not be? Should a man really be asked to split his allegiance – his body to his King and his soul to the Pope?_

"_Yes!"_

"_Why?"_

"_Because – because Kings can be wrong! Because they can act out of greed or lust or other immoral reasons and there must be some authority – some higher authority which can call them to account! To tell them that they may not act so!"_

_George finally understood and saw that his pressing would hardly win him a new convert to the reform movement. Mary's faith in the Church in Rome came as much from anger with her father as anything else._

"_I think, perhaps we have chosen a poor topic this evening." He said softly, hoping to appease Mary._

"_Yes I think we have." Mary's tone was waspish. They continued in silence for the rest of the evening. _

Despite that one occasion, Mary found that she even began to look forward to their conversations and felt a distinct emptiness when he left to go to court twice a month. Of course she would not admit this.

Eventually, the summer began to give way and before Mary realized it, September was upon them and Anne had gone into confinement, expecting her child any day. Late one evening Mary had retired to bed, but a storm outside kept her awake. The wind whistled through cracks in the windows and the rain pelted against the panes. Hours later, sleep still not availing her, she heard a horse ride up to the front and the great doors wheeled open.

Mary was curious as to the visitor so she pulled on her robe and her slippers and padded down the back stairs so she could observe them unseen.

"Blasted weather!" The rider muttered as he was stripped of his sodden hat and cloak. Mary quickly recognized the voice as belonging to George's father – Thomas Boleyn. He was escorted into George's study. Mary quickly walked down the small hallway that ran parallel to the one Thomas Boleyn went through, and came around to the back of the study where there was a small, undetectable hole in the wooden wall.

"Has Anne given birth? Is she well?" Mary could hear the agitation in George's voice, but she was more interested in what she had given birth to than in how she was doing.

"Blasted girl has ruined us all, she's given birth to a girl!" Mary's heart swelled at this pronouncement. Anne had failed! Perhaps her father would tire of her soon and return to her mother. Mary could not help but feel a sense of relief. She was about to return to her room when something made her decide to stay and hear the rest of the conversation.

"And how is Anne? Did she come through the birth alright?" George's voice was a mixture of agitation and frustration. Despite her feelings towards Anne, Mary could appreciate George's apprehension for his sister.

"She is fine." Thomas Boleyn's voice was full of disgust. May could not believe how unfeeling he was. She peered through the hole and could see George was slumped in his chair while his father paced the room. "Which I suppose is good. At least she can attempt to have boy next time!"

For the first time, Mary felt a tinge of pity for Anne – to have such a cold parent who saw his daughter as only a means to an end. With such a parent as that, no wonder she acted as she did.

"What of you George? Is your wife with child yet?" Her heart, which had been so light a moment ago, suddenly fell through her stomach.

"That would be rather difficult, unless of course she shares more than a name with the Holy Mother." George's voice was full of acid, but Mary knew somehow it was not directed at her, but the other man in the room with him.

"You mean you have not bedded her?" Thomas Boleyn stared, agog, at his son. "Do you have any idea what you are risking? Your sister has already failed us, I cannot afford for you to do the same!"

"Enough!" George said through gritted teeth, his voice was low but forceful. Thomas Boleyn was taken aback, and he was not the only one. Standing in her hiding place, Mary felt sure she had never heard George use such a tone. Even when they were in the midst of a serious discussion of the Plato or Aristotle, his voice had always been light and somewhat playful. "You have tried to turn each of your children into your own personal chess pieces and I have had enough! You forced Mary into the beds of two kings to help you advance at court, and now she can barely show her head without someone calling her 'the great prostitute'. And of course when Mary was no longer useful you shoved Anne in her place. You encouraged her to risk everything – even when you could see that she had already lost her heart to the King. Now you ask me to play the beast to an innocent girl and I have had _enough_ of your games!"

"How dare you." Thomas Bolyen's face was red with anger. It was clear none of his children had ever dared speak to him as George had. "I am your father –"

"- You are my father, but this is my home and you are no longer welcome here!" George got up from his seat as he said this, the chair clattering to the ground, and opened the door to the study. Thomas Boleyn stalked out.

Mary couldn't identify the feeling that came over her as she heard him play his father so completely, but the corners of her mouth turned upwards. But then a wretched thought came to her. What if this had been an act, played for her benefit so that George could win her trust? Thomas Boleyn was clever enough for that, and George certainly had the wit. But something about the situation did not seem to fit that explanation. George believed that Mary was asleep and he had no reason to know of her fear of storms. She had been quiet when she came down the stairs – sure to make no noise – and no one had seen her so they could not have known she was listening. In spite of the tone of their words, they had kept their voices remarkably low as though they did not wish to be heard.

As she turned climbed back into her bed, Mary puzzled over the scene she had just witnessed. The more she considered it, the more it appeared to have been genuine. Yet Mary could not comprehend of a Boleyn coming to her aid. But in some ways, had George not already done so? He had every reason, and every right, to take her to bed, but he stayed away. Even his father had expected him to take his husbandly rights. Mary's head was awash in turmoil. Could she trust George Boleyn?

* * *

><p>His head ached. For the first time in his life, George had disobeyed his father – even spoken roughly to him – and all he could think of was the throbbing in his head. What on earth had come over him? Perhaps it was the way his father had spoken of Anne, so without feeling for her plight. His poor sister. He wondered what their father had said to her, what the King had said to her.<p>

Yet he was used to his father's business like manner when it came to his children's duty. It wasn't until he had spoken of bedding Mary that George had snapped. He resented his father interfering with his life here. Beaulieu was not ideal, but it was peaceful here, and Mary's company was enjoyable. She had a pleasant laugh and a lovely smile. Her mind was keen and he had never engaged in such intelligent conversations with a woman before. But for all her intelligence, she still was innocent as to the ways of the world. To her it was still a place of definite moral rights and wrongs. It was refreshing to be with someone who was so certain.

George sighed. After the confrontation he had with his father he needed rest. So he climbed the stairs and retired to his room, hoping to wake up more at ease.

_**AN: Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews! I also hope that you all go over and check out valleydew's Wind of Change. It's great to see another George/Mary fic out there, and its really well written!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Between the Black and White

September 1533 – Beaulieu Palace

When George awoke the next morning he was in a foul mood. His argument with his father had set him on edge. He had never been easy with his father's machinations and his coarseness towards Anne had been the last straw. Of course there was also his wife, Mary. His wife. He was no longer sure how to think of her. At first he saw their arrangement as one of convenience. He could keep his sister safe, by keeping an eye on Mary, and have free reign to continue sampling the delights of the ladies of the court. But somehow she had crept upon him and settled herself in a place perilously close, he feared, to his heart.

The past three months had been peaceful. Mary could be very charming in her way, but it was her moral uprightness, that drew him. He knew of no other person who was so sure of what was right and wrong. It was that certainty that unnerved him this morning after what had passed the night before. His father seemed to feel that the only "right" was power, he did not necessarily car who he needed to ally himself with, what their beliefs were so long as they could help him. But then it seemed to George that most of the world acted so.

All save Mary.

She was so certain that those who supported her were fighting for "the right", for her, that she could not see their own ambition. He felt that these men in whom she placed her trust would only disappoint her. It angered him. Like his sisters she was clutching at straws, at men who would only desert her when she no longer served their purpose. Since he could not vent his anger on the King or the Emperor, when he saw Mary appear at the breakfast table that morning all of his ire settled on her and her damned naivety.

* * *

><p>As Mistress Keppell dressed her the following morning Mary continued to ponder the meaning of the previous night's events. The conversation she overheard between George and his father had shaken her view of the man she shared a home with. Over the past three months she had treated George as one might a casual acquaintance, having light conversations about philosophy, music and art, but never sharing anything of a truly personal nature. She had feared allowing him too great an access to her thoughts. In consequence, despite their close physical proximity, she knew little of the man with whom she shared a home, a man whom most considered to be her husband. But last night she began to see a glimpse of who he was, that is if it what she heard was genuine.<p>

Mary had no trouble believing the worst of the Boleyns. Anne had ruthlessly pushed aside her mother, seducing her father, making her bastard and stealing her rightful inheritance. And she had no doubt that her father had coached her on how best to succeed in her mission. But if what George said last night was true, Anne was as much a pawn in another man's game as she was, albeit a more cunning and callous one. That didn't mean she would like her or not smile when she eventually fell from power. But a part of her did have a small measure of pity for her.

As for George, Mary did not know what to think. He had shown a good deal of restraint and respect towards her. He had never pushed her or forced himself upon her. Instead he had given her space, allowed her to set the tempo of their relationship. They're conversations were never dull, and very often were the highlight of her day. He was in all respects since they're wedding, a gentleman. He was also handsome and intelligent, possessing a keen knowledge of philosophy and music. Were he a prince or foreign duke sent to marry her and sit as consort, she would consider herself quite blessed in a husband. And after hearing him defend her to his father, a voice inside of her kept whispering to trust him.

When she entered the hall for breakfast, George was already sitting at his place. He stood as the servant moved the chair for her and waited until she sat down before regaining his place. His face was drawn and his eyes had dark circles underneath them. Mary wondered if he had slept at all the previous night.

Normally George would speak first, but after waiting a few moments, Mary decided that perhaps she should break the silence.

"Did you sleep well last night? There was quite a storm about." She smiled and hoped that this would be enough to break the reserve he seemed to have this morning.

"Fine – I slept well enough." His tone was rough and he did not look up. He had never been so dismissive of her before. He had always been the one to warm the atmosphere between them. Something sunk inside of her. She was so accustomed to a different George – a far less sullen one.

"Good, I am glad to hear it. Will you be going down to see the farmers in the northern fields today? You mentioned yesterday that they had some qualms about the plans for the harvest and the new barn."

"Yes, I leave after breakfast." Judging from the rate at which he applied himself to his meal he would be off soon.

"Of course, that is best." Mary fiddled with the cloth in her lap. "Are you sure you are well? You look quite tired and I could send for the apotha-"

"-I am quite well, thank you." George snapped.

"You needn't snap! I was simply trying to express concern for your welfare." Mary was quite taken aback by his demeanor this morning.

"Oh, I see, expressing a concern for my welfare, well how charitable of you." Now George looked up at her his lip curled almost in a sneer.

"Yes, I was, so perhaps you could cease your sarcasm." Mary glared back at him. Had his confrontation with his father brought on this sour disposition? She thought of mentioning it – of alluding to the fact that she had overheard them – but decided it would aggravate him more.

"Well, from now on I would appreciate it if you would cease your concern for my _welfare_. We share a home, that is all."

Mary felt as though she had been slapped. "And here I thought we were trying to make the best of a bad situation? What have I done to make you treat me so coolly?"

"You see everything as so black and white! Good and evil! Everything is so simple for you. You don't see that even those you trust have an agenda."

"What do you mean by that!" Now Mary was genuinely angry and she could feel her cheeks begin to flush.

"Do you really believe that the Emperor would assist you if it wasn't in his interest?" George looked at her with eyebrows raised.

"The Emperor is my cousin –" Mary began

"And since when did _family_ keep people from acting for their own advancement?" Mary could barely contain herself, just because his family was a pack of jackals did not mean her own was built on avarice. "Everyone has an agenda."

"Really? So what is Ambassador Chapuys agenda or the Duke of Suffolk? They have both been most solicitous in wishing to assist my mother and I!" Mary shouted back.

George let out a bark of a laugh, so unlike his usual soft chuckle. "Ambassador Chapuys is an agent of the Emperor, and like any good lap-dog he wants his reward for a job well done. He knows my sister prefers the French and that a Spanish Queen would be more conducive to an alliance for his master. He knows that if he can procure Anne's downfall he would be most _generously_ compensated. And the Duke – the good Duke – did you know the he once allied himself with my father and uncle to get rid of Woolsey and put Anne on the throne?"

"I am aware, but I image he now regrets his ill-advised actions." Mary replied. Her posture rigid and her hands balled into fists.

"The Duke only regrets that he is no longer the only person with the ear of the King." George leaned back in his chair and took a deep swill from his glass. "And where is the Emperor? Do you see any troops crossing the sea to avenge his dearest Aunt and cousin and deliver them? So long as he needs the friendship of the King against the French he won't move a muscle. And Chapuys, do you think that he would lift a finger if he didn't believe it would serve the Empire's interest? Oh they'll sigh and say how sorry they are, how much of a pity it is, how they wished there was something they could do, but if in helping you they cannot help themselves, they won't bother. Chivalry is dead Mary, that is if it ever existed in the first place."

Mary had heard enough. It was too much for her. "How dare you! What have you ever done, besides sneer at the generosity of others? You are nothing but a venal cur!" With that she fled the room in tears up to her chambers where she collapsed upon her bed. Yet the more she tried, the more she could not keep his words from her mind. They angered her, but perhaps the more so because they had the wring of truth to them. Did not Ambassador Chapuys do exactly as George said when he informed her of her impending wedding? He sighed and said how sorry he was but that he could offer no help to her. And her cousin, the Emperor, he had complained to her father, the King, but did he do anything to stop it? He may have sacked Rome, but that only impelled her father to sever his ties with the Church. He had ventured nothing in her aid.

* * *

><p>George sighed as Mary ran from the hall. Mary was right, he had spoken out of anger at his own inadequacy. He decided he would give her some time to recover herself before he made his apologies. Instead he took a walk outside in the gardens. The roses were beginning to lose the luster from summer and some of the leaves were beginning to change, though it was still warm.<p>

He walked for a good hour, trying to decide how he would make amends to Mary. Normally he wouldn't have given a damn what some lady thought of his moral character. George thought back to the night his father told him he was to be married.

_Mistress Maud Hammond lay naked on her stomach, sprawlled across his bed as George dressed._

"_So these are what the chambers of a Duke's son are like." Maud cooed as ran her hands down the drapery that hung down around the bed. "Are you sure you have to go?" She got up and sauntered over to him wrapping her arms around his back._

"_Yes, I'm afraid I must – and should you. It wouldn't do for the Queen's brother to be caught with a unmarried maid in his chambers." His tone was light but firm. _

"_So, am I not well bred enough for your family? My father is knight, as yours was before your sister caught the King's eye!" _

_George gave a smirk at her outrage. "Well, we wouldn't want to backslide, now would we? Now I think you should find your dress and absent yourself, I wouldn't want to compromise your honor."_

_Maud threw a slipper after and made a noise like a harassed cat, but he managed to slip out just in time for it to make a dull thud against the door. _

But Mary was different. For the first time, there was a woman outside of his family he wished to please for some other reason than to bed her. Not that he didn't find Mary attractive, she was quite appealing, but there was something quite apart from her figure he wished to touch. Having reached the edge of the path leading from the lower garden to the woods, he turned to go back inside.

* * *

><p>Lying curled up on her bed, Mary heard a knock upon her door. No doubt it was Mistress Keppel coming to bring her the weekly order for the kitchen to be checked.<p>

"Please come back later Mistress Keppel, I am indisposed."

"I believe Mistress Keppel is currently in the kitchens yelling at poor Tom Sudbury for letting the chickens loose again." Mary was surprised to hear George's voice on the other side of the door. "May I come in?"

May slowly got down from the bed and walked over to the door. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting a repeat of their early argument. But eventually curiosity over came her. She wanted to hear if George had an explanation for his behavior. He entered the room and she sat down on the bed.

"I wanted to apologize for my earlier comments. I did not sleep well and I spoke out of spite."

Before she could stop herself the words tumbled out of her, "You spoke the truth. You never need apologize for that."

"The truth is not always something that should be spoken aloud, and I apologize for my offensive remarks."

Mary bowed her head and bit her lip. "You are forgiven on one condition. You must do something for me."

"That depends upon the request. Should you require me to sprout wings and fly to the moon, I may have to politely decline." He smiled broadly and the sight heartened Mary.

"You must promise to always tell me the absolute truth. I want no false friends about me."

"Are we to be friends then?" George moved slightly closer to the bed, but Mary did not shrink back in fear.

"Yes, I believe we shall."

"Good. Than I swear, on the damnation of my eternal soul, that I shall always tell you the truth, no matter the cost." He looked her in the eyes as he spoke and his voice was solemn. Mary knew at last that she could in fact trust George Boleyn. "Now, I should go and visit the farmers, unless, of course you would like to accompany me? I am sure they would be most gratified to meet the Lady of the manor."

"Yes, I would like that very much."

* * *

><p>As they road down towards the northern farms George pointed out all of the improvements he wished to make to the estate.<p>

"You seem pensive, is something troubling you?" George looked over at her.

"No, well, yes-" and before she could stop herself, Mary spoke up. "I overheard your conversation last night with your father."

"I see." George effected a casual nonchalance about this revelation, making her all the more confidant that what she was genuine. "I'm sorry if anything my father said offended you."

"You said nothing that need apology." Mary replied.

"He wasn't always as unfeeling." George looked straight ahead. "I think he has long thought that my mother married beneath her. He was the son of a merchant and she was the daughter of a duke. My uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, has, I think, a great deal of influence over him – goading him to prove that he was worthy to marry someone of the Howard family. It's twisted him."

"It had never occurred to me."

"Of course not, you were born to a King, the whole of the country looks up to you. You have never had a need to impress others, or seek their approval."

"Only that of my father." She looked over at him to see if the hit registered. "I have always striven to be the daughter, the heir, he craves. Now though…" Her voiced trailed off. It was painful to think of, her father declaring her a bastard, disinheriting her.

"I think I understand what you mean. I think sometimes we spend our lives trying to please our parents. But consider, as things are now, if you are no longer your father's heir, you only need please yourself if life."

Mary had never thought of that. It had never occurred to her that having no claim to throne freed her to leave a far more private life, free of the burdens of the crown. Perhaps it was the cool air of autumn or the invigoration of the ride, but suddenly Mary felt a weight lifted from her.

She smiled at George mischievously.

"I'll race you to that clump of trees!" She shouted and spurred her horse.

"You cheat!" George called at her as he spurred her own horse and chased after her.


	6. Man is a Giddy Thing

A/N: This chapter contains some very very very sketchy theology. I'm Jewish, so it was difficult for me to reproduce the debate between Catholic and Protestant. I hope its not offensive to anyone.

Chapter Six – Man is a Giddy Thing

September 15, 1533- Whitehall

Anne sat cradling the small bundle wrapped in soft blankets. She had cried for hours after Elizabeth was born, knowing she had failed in her duty. Henry's words had been consoling, insisting that they were both young enough yet to have a son, but his eyes were cold. The christening was full of the pageantry a heir to the throne was expected to receive. But, anyone who even glanced at the hastily re-written announcement could tell that the royal couple was disappointed.

Now though, Anne looked at her daughter and was filled with wonder. She was so tiny, her hand barely closing around Anne's ring finger. When Elizabeth gave a yawn, Anne was absolutely transported. She wanted to nurse the child herself, but Henry forbade it, saying it was not a job for a Queen. So Anne consoled herself with spending as much time as possible with Elizabeth, for she would soon be settled in her own establishment with a wet nurse and governess.

More than anything Anne worried for her daughter's future if she could not bear Henry a son. Her own future seemed less important when weighed against the sleeping bundle in her arms. Were she to die, or lose her crown, it would be well so long as Elizabeth was cared for. Elizabeth's future must be assured. At least Mary was under proper supervision Anne consoled herself. She could be sure that George would never allow anything to jeopardize Elizabeth or herself. But there were others, she knew, who would be more than glad to see both of them gone. She had seen the Imperial Ambassador in almost daily conference with the Duke of Suffolk. It would take all of her wit and charm to keep them at bay. First, it would require Anne to secure a royal match for her daughter and then, most importantly, to bear a son.

Suddenly the silence was pierced by a cry from Elizabeth who had awoken. Immediately, the wet nurse appeared and smiling took the baby from her.

* * *

><p>October 1533 - Beaulieu<p>

When Mary came down from breakfast one morning she was astonished to find the table was bereft of any food. Instead George stood beside it with a basket, in his riding clothes.

"I was thinking," George said placing his hand on the basket, "that there would not be many more fine days left in the season and, since I am due soon at court, we might enjoy a picnic."

Mary smiled broadly. "A picnic would be lovely. Where shall we go?"

"I was thinking that the sunken garden on the east side of the house would be a particularly fine spot. Would you not agree?"

"I would, absolutely." With that, Mary took George's arm and they walked outside and down the path to the garden. The sky was a bright, robin's egg blue, the air was crisp and the leaves were a magnificent array of hues. In short, it was a perfect autumn day.

George had left shortly after to attending the christening, and on his return she had quizzed him ceaselessly. Mary wondered if her father had put on the same show of pomp to save face when she was born, or was the embarrassment greater now because of the trouble he had taken to woo Anne. It seemed peculiar to her that she had a sister now. She had never met her father's other bastard offspring, the Duke of Richmond, as she had been away in Wales or in her own household. Mary could not decide whether she wanted to see her father's latest illegitimate offspring, the one who had her titles and claimed her inheritance. She knew it wasn't the infant's fault, and she was certain she would care for the child if she saw her, having, as she did, a weakness for children. Yet she was not sure she could bear seeing the little girl who had displaced her.

Here at Beulieau things also seemed less clear than they had before. George's easy disposition and the green and gentle rolling hills of Hampshire seemed to make all of the once so pressing issues of the succession and church authority somehow less pressing. As the days bled into one another Mary seemed to care less and less.

Since their conversation last month Mary became more open with George They had even successfully discussed religion.

"_What made you become a supporter of Luther?" Mary asked one night over dinner. _

"_You mean, when did the devil seize my soul?" From anyone else that would have cutting, but George said it with a smile on his face with a light chuckle, as though to say he knew she did not seriously believe that._

"_You do love to tease me. But, honestly, I do want to know."_

_George put his knife down and wiping his hands, let out a deep sigh. "Are you sure this a topic we can engage in? The last time we spoke of our faiths, it did not end well."_

"_I am perfectly ready to discuss it in a dispassionate manner." She straightened herself up to her full height in her chair as if to prove that she was completely at her ease._

"_Well, I suppose it began when I read of the excesses of the Borgia Pope. And then the more I read, the more I became convinced that I wanted no man to be responsible for the salvation of my soul, certainly not one who would sell it for a price."_

"_So you don't believe that the Pope is the head of the Church? But didn't Christ say to Peter that he was to be the head of the Church on earth?"  
><em>

"_Those passages can be interpreted in many ways, and I think that for man to truly be saved he must find Christ for himself."_

There debate had continued on until the early hours of morning, each giving and taking. Mary was hardly converted, but she found she could at least respect George's positions as honestly held.

But today there was something different she wished to discuss with George. After they found a place in the garden and Tom Sudbury had laid down the blanket, leaving them alone, Mary decided it was now or never.

"What was your childhood like?"

"My childhood? Why should you wish to know that?" He smiled.

"Just idle curiosity." She reached into the basket and found an apple.

"I highly doubt you have ever asked anything out of idle curiosity Mary. Well, as you would imagine, we were trained as babes to crawl about the nursery with knives at the ready to plunge into the backs of the other occupants. And our youth was spent mastering the many poisons from the orient."

"George, be serious!"

"I am! I am perfectly serious!" He let out a deep belly laugh. "No, it was a very normal childhood. We learned to read and do arithmetic, and played normal childhood games. My father was strict and mother obsessed with etiquette. And then of course Mary left for France, followed by Anne, and I was left alone with my parents as the youngest."

"And what were your sisters like." This was what Mary really craved, she wanted to know what Anne, her mother's rival, was like as a child.

"You mean, what was Anne like? She was my closest friend as a child. Mary was several years older than both of us, so we usually played together. Neither of us was as biddable as Mary either. She would usually do precisely what our parents asked, with little argument, but Anne – Anne always needed a reason. Anne was also cleverer that either Mary or I. Our tutors used to say that, had she been a boy, she would have outshone even the brightest scholars at Oxford."

Mary listened and tried to imagine a young Anne Boleyn: playful, willful, and clever. It seemed she had not altered much from her youth.

"And what of you? What were you like?" Mary smiled, trying to maker her previous inquiry into Anne seem merely part of a larger inquiry into George's own past.

"Like any young boy – I loved to ride, practice archery, avoid my studies as much as possible. Though over time, I began to enjoy my reading. I suppose it was the effect of missing Anne. She would write me with books she had read, and I felt closer to her when we could share them."

Mary conjured the thought of a young Anne, homesick, writing letters to a young George who obliged his sister by reading books with her. It was enough to make Mary wish she had siblings she was close to.

"And now that I have emptied my head of my memories, you should reciprocate."

"There is not much to tell. I spent much of my time at my studies, which my mother oversaw with the help of tutors."

"Did you have any pleasures?"

"The virginals – l played them from a very young age. They gave me such peace." Mary looked out into the distance, not wanting George to see that her eyes had become slightly teary. Thinking of her childhood brought her mother to her mind. She had not seen her for several years and she missed her calm firm presence and only received what few letters had been snuck through. It also embarrassed her that she had begun to think less and less of her in the past month.

"It is a pity then, that we do not have one here at Beaulieu."

"Yes," Mary said surreptitiously wiping her eyes, "a great pity. Perhaps we should go back inside, I feel a chill come upon me and it looks as though it might rain soon."

George looked up at the sky – indeed, some dark grey clouds in the distance had encroached upon the robin's egg blue sky. "That sounds well." With that George stood up and gave Mary his hand, helping her up from the ground. He gathered the blanket and basket and they turned inside.

As they got to the door, George stopped. Mary looked so sad, perhaps it was talk of childhood that had disturbed her, or the thought of her mother. He noticed that a piece of hair had fallen in front of her face. Slowly, he pulled it back behind her ear, allowing his hand to very softly graze against her cheek. Then, without think about it, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"I – I should go inside." Mary stammered. She then dashed into the house and up the stairs.

Once upstairs, Mary slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. He breath shallow, she took her hand and touched it to the spot on her head where George had kissed it and then brought her hand to her lips and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>October 1533 – Whitehall<p>

Ambassador Chapuys and the Duke of Suffolk had met several times since the Duke had sent his note back in June. Whatever plans they had laid back then to overthrow the Great Whore were put on hold whilst she was with child. But now she had given birth, not to a son and heir, but a girl. While she had failed to give the King a son, his Majesty had put a brave face on the matter and was now making moves to secure the little bastards place in the line of succession. Such a queen would, like her mother, be a more natural ally with France, tipping the balance of power in Europe away from the Empire. What is more, she would most likely continue moving England away from the true Church! This could not be allowed to happen. And of course, Chapuys was concerned for his poor Princess, forced to pretend a marriage to that great oaf of a man George Boleyn.

"So, do you still believe that our best course of action is to try to entice the King away from the Concubine?" Chapuys asked as he considered whether he should move his pawn or his knight first.

"Yes, I do. I have known the King for many years and the only thing that is constant with him is that his eyes are constantly wandering." Charles Brandon concluded as he watched the Ambassador advance his pawn – a foolish move as it left open the bishop, which Brandon quickly dispatched.

"Ah! You are too good at this game your grace!" Chapuys gave his companion an admiring smile. "Do you have a lady in mind?" He examined the board and decided on moving his rook closer to the King.

"Not as of yet. The King goes from extremes in his affections, so the lady we must find should be everything Lady Anne is not. She should be fair, where Anne is dark. She should be meek, as Anne is brash and submissive as Anne is forward." Choosing his own bishop, Brandon advanced the piece placing it in a position to take the Queen.

"But the King will hardly contemplate another divorce, nor should he, whilst Queen Katherine is still alive." Chapuys was frustrated, his Queen was in danger and losing her would put the King in check. He made a desperate move, quite without thinking, using his last remaining knight. The Duke quickly eliminated the threat with a swift considered move of his rook.

"No, which is why we must utterly destroy Lady Anne, not merely replace her in the King's affections. " Chapuys was considering his next move.

"And how does Your Grace intend to do that." Chapuys took the rook the Duke had used to take his knight, only to realize too late that it was a mere feint. The Duke now had his Queen, and the King in was in check.

"Check, Ambassador. Lady Anne is very free in her company and gentlemen often attend her in her chambers." Chapuys looked scandalized. "Oh it is all perfectly innocent, but the King does not know that. I have placed a young woman amongst the Ladies-in-Waiting, a woman who detests the Boleyns almost as much as you do. She is busy keeping her eyes, and ears, open for anything, even the most innocuous of things, that can be used to incriminate the Lady." With that Brandon moved his knight. "Check-mate Mr. Ambassador."

Chapuys smiled in spite of his loss. He had indeed chosen his ally well.

* * *

><p>October 1533 – Beaulieu<p>

Mary had not come down to dinner after the incident at the door. She had needed some space and time to consider what had occurred. Every time she thought of it, the place on her forehead where his lips had touched seemed to tingle. Part of her wanted George to come to her room and speak to her – she didn't know what she wanted him to say, but something in her needed to see him. Another voice in her head, one that sounded like her mother, chided her for allowing a man to take such liberties for even befriending a man whose family had caused such pain. Her head began to ache immensely.

That night she had strange dreams, dreams she had never had before - filled with George. They seemed to make her whole body come alive to every sensation. When she awoken by Mistress Keppel the next morning her cheeks flushed.

"Are you well my lady? You look feverish."

"I am fine Mistress Keppel. Is his lordship down at breakfast?" Mary tried not to appear anxious for the answer.

"Oh, no my lady. He left an hour ago, bound for court." Mistress Keppel busied herself laying out Mary's gown for the day.

"Very well than, I believe I shall take breakfast in my chambers this morning, rather than the great hall."

"As you wish. I shall go and fetch it right away."

Mary had decided; she was definitely glad George was not here. It would only provoke more confusion in her. It was one thing to treat him with courtesy, even to enjoy his company, it was quite another to have her dreams bedeviled with thoughts of him. She had made a promise to her mother she would remain chaste so that a more honorable marriage could be found for her – a marriage worthy of the heir to the throne of England. But then, why could George not be a worthy consort? He was clever, kind and charming, most monarchs would not dare to hope for such a partner. It came down to one thing though: he was a Boleyn. His family had sent her mother into exile and made her a bastard. He should not hope for her affections – and she should not hope for his.

* * *

><p>November 2, 1533 – Beaulieu Palace<p>

It had been two weeks since George had left for court. Mary's dreams had continued, even as she scolded herself for having them. Sitting in the study one afternoon, Mary overheard a great deal of noise and chaos coming from the front entrance followed by a knock at the study door.

"Enter." Mary laid down her quill and took her eyes from the account book she had been going over.

Mistress Keppel entered with a bow. "If it please your ladyship, there is a delivery come from London that requires your attention."

Mary furrowed her brows, a delivery from London? But who would have sent her something, and what could it be? "Bring it in Mistress Keppel."

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible my lady. You see it's quite large and won't fit in here."

Mary's curiosity was now definitely peaked. She walked into the front hall to find a large object, far too large as Mistress Keppel had said to fit in the study, wrapped in brown muslin and tied with rope. "Can you untie the rope -"

" – Jonah, my lady. Jonah Wheeler. Sure can!" The man was stout, and about 30 with rather tatty clothes. He drew out a knife from his belt and began to saw away at the ropes. Soon they were loosened and he next took to removing the cloth. When he finished, Mary let out a great cry and clasped her hand over her mouth.

Surrounded by the dirty muslin that now was crumpled about on the floor stood the most beautiful virginal she had ever laid eyes on. It was intricately carved cherry wood and painted with red roses and green leaves.

"There's a le'er he'er too for ya my lady." With that he handed over a piece of sealed paper. "And you needn't worry that I spied on ya for I can't read word." Mary turned away from the assembled household staff and Jonah and tore open the letter.

_My lady,_

_I hope this note finds you well and that this gift that accompanies it is a welcome addition to the home. I felt that Beaulieu could do with some music and I do so wish to here you play. I have also included several pieces of music for your study. _

_Their Majesties wish me to send you their greetings and ask that we join them at Hampton Court for Christmas this year._

_I shall return to Beaulieu in another week, once my business at court is completed and am sure I shall hear you have mastered the pieces I enclosed. _

_Till then – _

_Yours affectionately,_

_George Boleyn_

Mary flushed and smiled at the letter.

"He mus' love you a great deal my lady as to send such a gift! Why I don't know as I could afford to by my Nelly but a key on this grand thing, let 'lone the whole instreement."

Mary nodded. "Yes, thank you Jonah. Mistress Keppel, please fetch a couple of coins for our good courier here and Tom please take him to the kitchens and get him a mug of hot cider." Mary walked towards the virginals and ran her hands across the case and opened it to reveal the beautiful ivory keys inside. She played a few and closed her eyes to here the notes resound so beautifully.

"My lady – my lady" Mistress Keppel interrupted her. "Where shall we place it?"

"I think it belongs in the back parlor by the large window overlooking the gardens. Do you not think it would look well there?" She could not suppress the joy that bubbled up inside her.

"Yes, my lady, I think that is just the spot!" Mary looked down and began to re-read her letter oblivious to chaos that attended moving the new piece to its proper place. _Yours affectionately. _The words played in her mind. She noticed there was a large blot before the word affectionately; perhaps his quill had taken in too much ink. Of course he would not have signed with his love, as that would have seemed to forward, but affectionately, this was enough for her.

Even the request to join her father for Christmas Court, did not give her as much joy as those two words _yours affectionately._


	7. Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Chapter Seven – Tidings of Comfort and Joy

December 20, 1533 – Road to Hampton Court

George watched as Mary yawned inside the carriage and he looked around to see the early morning sun come up over the snow-covered hills, making them appear to sparkle like diamonds. He pulled his cloak closer around himself. They had set out a little more than an hour ago, before even the sun had risen so that they might arrive at Hampton Court before nightfall. He was ridding beside the carriage, and when looked over at her she responded with a smile that he returned.

"Are you warm enough?" He called out.

"Yes, I'm quite comfortable."

He had been unsure of himself when he returned to Beaulieu. The kiss he had given Mary, the feel of her soft skin, had not left him. He had thought going to court, absenting himself from her presence, would somehow lessen the immediacy of those sensations she provoked in him. But the more he tried to set them aside the stronger they appeared, but mostly at night.

_A week into his stay in London while walking down the street, he happened upon a craftsman's store. He though, perhaps that he could exercise Mary from his mind if he purchased her a gift of some sort, a sort of apology for his taking such a liberty. Once inside, however, he found that the craftsman in fact specialized in the creation of virginals and George knew instantly what he wished to give Mary. He placed a custom order with the man and asked that it be delivered along with a note that he wrote out. But his rash purchase only enhanced his nighttime mental images. While in these more recent dreams, Mary wore substantially more clothing than previous ones the sight of her playing sweetly on the virginals he purchased provoked a sharp ache of longing in his heart. _

_When he returned to Beaulieu, Mary had greeted him with a shy welcome and asked if he wished to hear her play. When he agreed, she took his hand sending a shock through him as she brought him into the back parlor where the virginal sat in front of a large window. Mary directed him to a seat opposite the instrument where he could see her face as she played. _

_It was enchanting. The whole effect of the light from the late afternoon sun, the music and Mary herself, seemed perfectly in harmony, as though she had always been intended to be there. He wanted to immediately bound up from his chair and capture her lips with his, but he restrained himself. If he truly cared for her, he would have to wait for her to come to him_.

Looking out of the carriage at George, Mary felt an increasingly familiar feeling fall over her, a warm, tingling, sensation. This feeling was always countered though, by a sense of guilt – guilt about what her mother would think. But she had continued to keep her promise, hadn't she? She they were only dreams and one pure kiss to her forehead– there was nothing unchaste about that. Yet she could not deny that there was part of her that yearned for more. She could not describe it, these feelings were so new. Her dreams at night seemed so real it was almost as though she could feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, and sometimes – sometimes she blushed to admit – there was much, much more. Just remembering them produced a flush and she pulled the fur in the carriage up farther around her.

Finally, hours later, they arrived at Hampton Court. Snow covered the courtyard and made the stones slick, requiring Mary to cling to George's arm as he aided her to the door where she mumbled her thanks. Several porters took their belongings and followed them as they were conveyed to their apartments, which, while adjacent, were thankfully separate. Mary did not know how she would manage if they had been thrown together. George gave her a bow as he entered his own apartment to sleep.

She was grateful to have been invited to Court, despite having to see her father and Lady Anne together. Perhaps, if he saw her she would be able to speak to him and convince him to let her see her mother, and maybe seeing her would remind him of his duty to his family: his true wife and daughter. Of course it had not made him waiver the last time she was at court, but then Anne was pregnant, and confidently expecting a son. This time though, Anne was in disgrace, not with child and only the mother of a daughter. Surely, surely this time things would be different.

As she closed her eyes she allowed herself to dream of how her life would change. It was a fantasy Mary indulged herself in from time to time. She smiled in her sleep as she imagined Anne sent packing, humiliated, to some religious order. Sometimes she was generous and allowed her to keep her title as Marquise and, with a very small income, live out her life in a manor deep in the country. Of course Elizabeth would be looked after as befitted a child of the King, even a base born one. Mary then imagined herself honored again as Princess of Wales, enthroned in Ludlow Castle as she had been years earlier. Sitting on the dais, presiding over her principality, a golden circlet of authority settled upon her head and a belly swollen with child, she tuned to bestow a warm smile upon her consort – an equally regal George Boleyn.

* * *

><p>As a fresh snow had fallen overnight, Mary decided that it would be best to remain in her chambers, reading during the day. A warm fire had built in the sitting room so Mary, taking the copy of Virgil, which George had recommended, settled herself in for a quiet day until she was required to attend that evening's festivities. George stopped in quickly on his way to a meeting of the Privy Counsel, but apart from that, Mary's day was a solitary one. It was not as though she expected any visitors – well maybe a little. She supposed her supporters at court were too afraid of Anne's wrath to visit her.<p>

That evening she changed into a lovely gown of red velvet and a crown of holly with red berries. As she examined herself in the mirror and straightened her skirts she hear a knock on the door. George appeared, attractive in deep green velvet doublet, ready to escort her down stairs.

"Did you have a good day?" He asked. "Have you enjoyed Virgil?"

"Yes, the book has been most enjoyable, and my day was very quiet."

When they finally reached the great hall, Mary winced slightly as she was announced to the court as "Lady Mary". Making the required obeisance, she approached the dais where her father and Anne sat.

"You Majesty," Mary said with the deep bow she had been trained in from infancy. Then without thinking she turned towards Anne and made a decidedly shallow bow. "Lady Anne." Mary felt a surge of power as walked away from the dais, before, of course, she had time to consider what that moment would cost her.

The entire court suddenly seemed to buzz with her behavior, whispering and staring. Her father did not say anything, but she could see from the way he clenched his jaw that he was far from pleased. Suddenly, the musicians started up and George quickly took her hand and led her to the floor. Mary quickly forgot about the murmurings of the court as she lost herself in intricacies of the dance. She laughed and smiled as George pointed out how fat Sir Thomas Meadows was slumped over in his chair snoring into his plate.

* * *

><p>Ambassador Chapuys looked on as Princess Mary danced and smiled with that strutting peacock of a man, George Boleyn. He couldn't decide if she was merely feigning happiness to draw attention away from her earlier transgression or whether she bewitched. Of course, he would not put it passed anyone in that family to partake in dark arts. Hadn't that Great Whore already proven that her cursed family was capable of anything.<p>

Searching the crowd he caught sight of the Duke of Suffolk. The Duke had been but rarely at court since June when he left to mourn his wife's passing. They had not spoken since their meeting in October but Chapuys could fee that their plans could now begin to take form. He nodded to the Duke across the hall, who returned his nod, and then seemed to indicate a room off to the side.

After making his way discreetly across the hall, Chapuys entered the side room, careful to close the door behind him, only to find not only the Duke of Suffolk, but also Lady Jane Parker. Chapuys bowed, as was only polite.

"My Lady, pardon me, but I was under the impression that His Grace and I would be having a private conference. I mean no disrespect, but it is of the utmost importance that –"

"- Do not worry yourself, Ambassador, Lady Parker is here at my request." Brandon quickly interjected.

"I see. May I ask for what purpose?" Chapuys was a trifle unnerved; did the Duke not understand how precarious their position was? If the Boleyns or their supporters should discover their plans, they would undoubtedly have their heads.

"You remember, Ambassador that I mentioned I had placed a young lady amongst Lady Anne's waiting gentlewomen? This is she." Lady Jane gave a small curtsey at the acknowledgment.

"If you forgive my curiosity, Lady Parker, why may I ask have you agreed to assist His Grace? I had thought that your family was quite close to the Boleyns."

"We were Ambassador, that is until the Boleyn's decided their fortunes had improved to such an extent that they did not need my family any more and broke off the arrangement between myself and George Boleyn." She sniffed in disgust as she recited her reasons for become the Duke's eyes and ears in Lady Anne's chambers.

"So, you do this for the sake of revenge then?" Chapuys asked incredulously.

"Yes, do you find fault with that?"

"Not at all my lady. In fact, revenge can be a stronger force of motivation that any purer one of conscience."

"Shall we sit?" Brandon motioned to a table and chairs. "Lady Jane, would you relate to the Ambassador what you told me this morning."

"There is not much to tell." She shrugged her shoulders. "Lady Anne is but six weeks churched and since that time the King has resumed regular attendance in her bed."

"So he still hopes for a son by the Concubine?" Chapuys leaned forward eager for any scrap of information that would show the wretched woman had at last begun to lose her hold on the King.

"It would appear so. He appears as affectionate as ever towards her, he seems to be of the mind that a healthy child is at least a sign of her fertility."

"He has taken no mistresses then?" Chapuys was disappointed. If the birth of a daughter had not shaken her hold on the King, what would it take to bring him back to the true Church and to his true wife?

"Not since Lady Anne was churched. It appears to have been but a passing fancy merely to satisfy his lust while he was unable to visit Lady Anne's bed."

Chapuys let out a sigh. This is not what he had hoped to hear. "This is most unfortunate. I had hoped that her failure to bear a son would loosen her hold over him."

"It is not all bad news, Ambassador." Brandon said placing a hand on Chapuys arm as if to steady him. "I believe that the Whore has overplayed her hand with the recent imposition of the Act of Succession and the Act of Supremacy. The people are already deeply disgusted with her and, since her failure to have a son, they are even more impatient with her antics. There are many men who will oppose this act, and some I fear will be made martyrs to it. The King will see that he cannot keep his people and his Whore. She will lose."

"I hope you are correct, Your Grace. And I hope that it will not take a martyr to bring about her downfall."

"I hope so as well. But for now, let us raise our glasses to Her Majesty, Queen Katherine."

Lady Jane and Chapuys raised their glasses and repeated their host's toast, "Queen Katherine."

* * *

><p>The evening had passed in a whirl of music, dancing and wine. Mary had forgotten all about her earlier actions and fell asleep happy and exhausted after an evening's entertainment. It wasn't until she had finished dressing the next morning and a porter was at the door with a summons from the King.<p>

Mary stiffened involuntarily as she made her way to her father's private study, unsure of what awaited her. When the door to the study opened and she was ushered, Mary bowed and approached her father whose back was to her as he looked out the window.

"Your Majesty." She bowed again once she reached the desk and kept her eyes studiously lowered.

The King turned around and his cold eyes bore into her. "Do you know why I have asked you here?"

"No, your majesty." She tried to sound as innocent as possible, but it was a lie. She knew she had gravely insulted her father's paramour, the woman he called his wife and queen.

"Yes you do! You have knowingly insulted your Queen, and thereby insulted me!" Mary wanted to shout back that Anne was no queen, that such title only belonged to her mother, but she dared not press her father further, not when he was already in such mood. "In punishment for your actions I am forced to do something I have heretofore refrained from."

Mary's heart dropped into her stomach. This was it – she was bound for the tower. A part of her did not want to believe that her father was capable of doing such a thing, but she feared it nonetheless.

"You will sign the Act of Succession and the Act of Supremacy and thereby renounce any claim you have to the throne.

Mary stood there, paralyzed for a moment as she allowed his words to wash over her. She knew what these acts purported to do. They claimed to nullify her parent's marriage and to proclaim that her father was the head of the Church. Signing them would not be an admission of her status as a bastard, label her mother as little more than a whore, it would also denounce the faith that had seen her through such turbulent times. After standing mutely she gathered her wits and at first very quietly, with her head still lowered, she replied to her father, "No, I will not sign."

"Say that again?" Her father fairly growled.

"I can not sign these documents." She continued to avoid her father's eyes but spoke more forcefully.

"I am your king and your father, and I command you to sign!"

"You are my king and father and I will obey you in all things not touching my conscience, but I cannot sign! I believe that the Church in Rome is the one true Church and that my mother is your true wife and I _will not_ betray my faith or my mother for –"

"-Silence!" The King slammed his fist down upon the desk in front of him. "I will hear no more about your _conscience_. You are as willful and stubborn as the woman who bore you. To think your husband said you could be relied upon to behave yourself. You are no longer welcome here at court. I will give you the day to gather your belongings but you will leave at first light tomorrow, I do not care how treacherous the weather is. You may receive no visitors or messages aside from the ones I personally approve."

Mary held in the sob that threatened to escape her. She had only but recently been readmitted to court and now, she was to suffer exile again.

"If that is what His Majesty commands." She gave a small curtsy to emphasize her obedience.

"It is. You will stay there until you learn to whom you owe your duty as a subject and a daughter. Now leave!" With that her father turned away from her again and back towards the window.

Mary made a deep curtsey again. "Your Majesty." Leaving the study, she allowed a small cry to escape her, but she quickly wiped any tears away, straightened her posture and hastened back to her apartment.

* * *

><p>Upon returning to her room Mary hurriedly began to replace what things she taken from her trunk, to busy to hear the quiet knock upon the door, or hear it open. She was only startled from her packing when she felt a hand upon her shoulder, causing her to whirl around in surprise.<p>

"George! You startled me!"

"I heard you had an audience with your father and I wanted to see if all was well with you. Are you packing?"

"Yes, I'm packing!" She fairly spat out, walking away from him and placing a small box of jewelry back in her truck. "My father has banished me from court because I refused to sign the Act of Succession or the Act of Supremacy."

George walked over to her as she spoke. "I am sorry."

"Are you? You knew, you knew he might ask me to sign and yet you did not tell me! Why?"

George bent his head down, feeling embarrassed. "I had thought to spare you the pain of it. I believed that he would trust in my judgment and – well I don't know why else. But I am sorry if I hurt you."

Mary wiped her eyes again as she felt them begin to sting. "It is of little consequence, I shall not sign."

George sat down on the bed as Mary began to fold her nightclothes. "I understand."

"Do you?" She asked tartly. "No doubt you believe I should sign post haste."

George sighed and shook his head. "I should advise you neither way. As I said before, everyone has an agenda, and I would not wish for mine to influence your judgment. Of course I wish as many to sign as possible, my sister's safety and the safety of her daughter, are at issue. But that is my reason, and I am not you."

Mary sank down upon the bed under the weight of what she had been asked by her father. "But if you were me, what would you do?"

"Well, when placed in such a position, it is always prudent to first consider one's opponent and their strength compared to oneself, and what the odds are of achieving a desired result."

"Your sister is not with child, making her weak at the moment, but I am no longer at court and what supporters I have been silenced."

"Is Anne really your opponent?"

"Yes! She is the one who displaced my mother and had me declared a bastard!"

"Permit me to ask you this, but is your father a man who accepts rejection from anyone?"

"What do you mean?" Mary looked at him sharply.

"What I mean is, yes, my father charged Anne with amusing the King, but have you never been in a position where a situation got away from you? The King decided that it was Anne he wanted – and Anne he would have. She was left with a choice, submit to the King and lose her reputation, as my elder sister has, or to say no and drive him into even further heights of desire."

"So are you saying it is my father who is my enemy?" Mary was incredulous, he was her father!

"I am only asking you to consider, even if my sister falls from favor, your father has now gained more power than any King of England ever had, and what King would willingly give that up?"

"Are you saying you do not believe that my father will ever return to the true Church, or to my mother?" Mary's voice trembled.

"I cannot see the future, all I know is that few men willingly give up what power they have."

"Even if that were true, even if there is no chance that my father will change his mind, I cannot pain my mother with such a betrayal. It would be the death of her to hear that I have left the Church and slandered her name."

George nodded his head in understanding. "I believe that the love of a child and parent is reason enough to do near anything. Better than any reason of faith or ambition."

"Thank you," She smoothed her skirts as she sat, for lack of anything else to do with her hands, "for not insisting that I sign."

"Of course, loyalty is a rare quality these days Mary. Never lose that."

"Would you accompany me back to Beaulieu?" She looked over at him, hopefully.

"As you wish."

* * *

><p>AN: Hey, hope you guys are willing to stick with me! This chapter took a while to do as I'm going in to take the bar exam tomorrow and have been studying my butt off. The next one might also be a while in coming so, I beg you don't give up, I promise there will be an update! Second note, yeah the last line is a nod to The Princess Bride, so if you've seen it, you know what it means. ;-)


	8. We Are Unlikely

Chapter Eight – We Are Unlikely

April 1534 – Beaulieu

The winter had passed in peace. Mary continued to practice her virginal daily and George would typically arrange his schedule so he could hear her play. At night, he taught her how to play chess. She was still quite the novice, but had managed to execute a few surprising wins. Though she had a sneaking suspicion with the first victory that George had made one or two purposeful blunders that allowed her to succeed. She had to admit that few exiles could boast a more pleasant situation.

George was still required to return to court once a month for a week's visit, after which Mary begged him for news of the court. Most of it was light gossip about the foils and follies of the various courtiers and nobles who swanned around in hopes of some preferment. In mid-March though, George returned with news that Anne was again with child. Mary feared that if it were a boy she would no longer be able to avoid signing the Acts.

She began to have dreams of her mother. In her dreams she was in a garden and could see her mother plainly across the way, with her back turned to her. She would call for her and begin running to her. But, as she began to run, so did her mother, in the opposite direction. No matter how fast she went or how desperately she cried out, her mother would not stay for her.

Shaken awake one night screaming her mother's name she tried to return to sleep but there was a knock on her door followed by a soft voice.

"Are you alright, Mary?" George asked quietly. Mary got up, unlatched the fastening and opened the door.

"I am fine. I've merely had a bad dream." George's hair was charmingly ruffled from sleep and Mary could tell that he had been awoken by her scream.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I think I shall be fine."

"In that case I shall retire to my bed. Sleep well." But as George turned to go, Mary felt a strange tugging inside her.

"Wait! Do you think – would it be possible - what I mean to say is, would you mind staying in my chamber?" She bit her bottom lip, anxious as to whether she appeared to forward.

"If it would be of assistance. I see you have a very comfortable chair there by the desk, I would be happy to spend the night there. However, you had best keep your candlestick at hand."

Mary laughed softly as she was reminded of their awkward wedding night. "Thank you, I would be most grateful." With that George entered the room and stretched out in the chair and Mary climbed back into her bed. For the first time in weeks, Mary slept peacefully.

* * *

><p>Chapuys had never been to Beaulieu, and he had hoped to never step foot in the home of a Boleyn, but now he had important work to do. The King had permitted him to deliver a message to Princess Mary, and for her sake only would he keep company with a member of that cursed family.<p>

When he arrived he was disappointed to find, not the home of an heir to the throne of England, but the manor of a minor noble. It would be pleasant enough for a knight or even an earl, but for the daughter of King, a Princess, it was simply not acceptable. As he entered the Manor's front hall, he heard a shout of "George, no!". Afraid that, at that moment, the swine was preparing to force himself upon the Princess, Chapuys pulled out his sword and ran into the back parlor where he heard the cry emanate from. However, instead of finding an incipient attack and a poor defenseless lady, he saw Princess Mary sitting behind a very elegant virginal with George Boleyn a safe distance apart from her relaxed in a chair. Mary had covered her mouth with her hand but it was quite apparent that she was attempting to stifle a laugh. Upon seeing him, George Boleyn raised an eyebrow.

"Mister Ambassador, it is good of you to call, but I'm afraid you may not yet have accustomed yourself to our English manners. You see, here a gentleman generally does not enter the home of another with his sword drawn." Chapuys was irked by Boleyn's insouciant manner.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Ormonde, but I heard a scream, so I felt it best to respond quickly."

To his surprise Mary let out a light chuckle and responded. "I thank you for your quickness in responding, but I was merely reacting to a rather sordid story George was repeating about Sir Nicholas Epsom. Apparently, he has been seen at court lately in the company of a Mistress Joan Harper."

"Sir Nicholas is a most pious man, and I do not think it gentlemanly to spread gossip about a lady." Chapuys responded sourly. This was not the Princess Mary he recognized, laughing and gossiping with a man so utterly beneath her. "But I am not here to spend an idle hour, the King has charged me with passing along a message to your ladyship from your mother." He removed a letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to Mary who quickly tore it open.

He watched as Mary quickly scanned through the letter's contents and saw her face fall, unfortunately, he was not the only person to notice.

"Is everything well, Mary?" Chapuys quietly fumed as George Boleyn placed a hand on Mary's shoulder and addressed her so informally and with such intimacy. How dare her behave so to her.

"It is my mother. The doctors say she has tumor of the breast and they do not expect her to survive long." She had tears in her eyes, but before Chapuys could move to comfort her, Mary had embraced George who was muttering soft words of comfort to her.

"Ambassador, if you please, could you give us a moment?" George said, quietly as Mary sobbed in his arms. He was about to protests when Mary looked up.

"Please, Ambassador." Mary seconded George, and he could not object. But once outside the parlor he raged. Such a preening peacock, to brush him aside and seek to comfort his Princess! He felt himself flush with anger. Princess Mary should be married to a man of true royalty, she did not deserve to be thrown away on such a man. Chapuys realized that it was now more important than ever to overthrow this pernicious family, otherwise his Princess might be lost forever.

* * *

><p>As soon as Chapuys left the room, George looked down at Mary. "Is there anything I can do?"<p>

"Yes," Mary replied between sobs, "I would like to see my mother. Could you – could you speak to the King and ask him – ask him if I could see her? I wish to see my mother, more than anything."

"Of course, of course. I will ride to court tomorrow and I promise to speak to the King about seeing your mother." He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, placing both hands on her shoulders, so she could see that he was telling the truth, as he had once promised to do.

"Thank you, it means the world to me." She wrapped herself back up in his arms and took a moment just to feel the security they provided.

"Are you well enough for company? Shall I call Ambassador Chapuys back in?" He could feel Mary nod against his chest. Breaking apart from Mary, George walked over and opened the door calling for the Ambassador who quickly re-entered.

"Ambassador, we have decided that I shall be going to court tomorrow, if you would care to stay the night, we can offer you a comfortable room and you may join me tomorrow morning." He could see that Chapuys was hesitating, no doubt reluctant to spend the night under the roof of a Boleyn.

"Thank you for your hospitality, I am most obliged." He made a slight bow to George Boleyn and a deeper one to Mary.

* * *

><p>That evening at dinner, already surprised by the intimacy they had displayed earlier in the day, Chapuys was further shocked with their ease. They had the same comfortable way of speaking with each other, full of short-hand common between individuals long accustomed to each other's company. They even seemed to know what the other was thinking, as evident in their conversation regarding what duties with the estate would require action while Lord Ormonde was gone.<p>

"_I have been thinking-" Mary began_

"_- the south farms, yes I have as well." George replied completing her sentence. "We should lease the acreage to the west of the grove to Albert Knox, do you agree?"_

"_Yes, that is just what I had contemplated. His family has grown so large –_

_- and he is a good worker. He has taken excellent care of the west field and the cattle herd. Would you speak to him whilst I am away?"_

"_I would be happy to, I shall ride out tomorrow and speak with him. He shall need to begin soon if he is to grow a proper crop." She gave George a warm smile._

Rather than feeling relieved that his Princess was obviously well cared for, and seemingly happy, Chapuys felt increasingly angered at the situation. It seemed clear to him that yet another Boleyn had wormed their way into the affections of someone beyond their station, using whatever dark arts they possessed to seduce the innocent. He knew that the King had demanded that Mary sign those two repugnant oaths, but that she refused, and he wondered, how long would she hold out if she with George Boleyn constantly attending upon her. He would need to speak to the Duke to appraise him of the dire nature of the situation and see if perchance there was a they could speed their plans along. But for now he watched in silence as she bestowed her smiles and attentions upon that very little man.

* * *

><p>The ride to Hampton Court passed in silence. It was apparent to George, after he briefly attempted to engage Ambassador Chapuys in light conversation, that the man had rather not speak with him. It mattered little to him, though the lack of conversation had allowed George's mind to wander back to Beaulieu and Mary's inestimable charms. He thought back to the image of her in her nightdress as she welcomed him into her room, so small and vulnerable, allowing him to stay there, easing her mind. He wondered whether she would be all right without him there, whether she would have more nightmares now that she knew her mother's health was poor. And then he recalled the feel of her delicate figure in his arms. He wanted to keep her there forever, protected. Never before had he felt as though he would go to the ends of the earth just to make someone happy. It was enough for now that she trusted him enough to ask him for this one small favor, he would not fail her.<p>

Once he arrived at court he immediately repaired to his rooms and wrote his sister a note requesting an audience the next day. His initial idea had been to speak directly to the King, but then he realized that the direct route might not be the best on a subject such as this, and who better to cajole the King that Anne. The answer came an hour later, she would speak with him the next morning.

George arrived the next morning at Anne's chambers and was conducted in by Nan Saville and Anne greeted him with a warm smile.

"George! How good to see you, you were not expected back at court so soon. And you did not need to request an audience, you are my brother and therefore welcome here anytime."

"I am glad to hear it. You look well, exactly as an expectant mother should." Anne looked much better than when he had seen her in February, when she seemed sad and scared. Now there was a lightness to her he had not seen since last her coronation.

"Thank you brother. So, what brings you back to court?" Anne sat back down upon the settee.

"I have a favor to ask of you. It is of some importance and of the utmost delicacy."

Anne looked at the serious look on Georges face and responded in kind patting the cushion next to her, bidding him to sit down beside her. "Of course, anything for you dear brother, all you need do is ask." She placed a hand on his knee.

"It is not exactly for me." Anne studied his face. "The Dowager Princess is very ill with a tumor and they do not think she will last the year. Anne, I was hoping that you would speak with the King, and ask – ask that he allow Mary the opportunity to see her before she passes."

Anne got up from the seat and walked up to the window, obviously angered by the request. "Has she agreed to sign the oath?"

"No, but –

-than she may not. She knows the King's decree. If she wishes to see her mother she knows what she must do."

"You know she can't do that, Anne! She cannot sign and then go see her mother, it would kill her."

"And that is my problem because? The King has been very clear."

"Anne, what if it were our mother, what if she was dying and you were kept apart from her?"

"Our mother always preferred our sister's company to mine." Anne sniffed in reply. It was true. Their mother had always preferred Mary and more compliant attitude. Perhaps he had chosen poorly in his analogy.

"Anne, please!"

"I do not trust them, either of them. Elizabeth's claim to the throne is tenuous enough, if Mary and Katherine meet they can raise an army together with the help of the Emperor, than Elizabeth and I are as good as dead!"

"Anne, Katherine is dying, she can barely leave her room, let alone lead an army, and Mary only wants to see her before she dies, she does not want to overthrow the kingdom!" George pleaded with her.

"I said I do not trust them. If this baby is not born a boy and alive, I must survive on the favor of the King and that may not last."

"You do not need to trust them, Anne, you need to trust me!" George waited for a response, which did not come. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course, but that trust does not matter to the King and is it he who must grant the permission."

"Anne, please, you know you can speak to him."

"I don't know."

George was desperate, so he brandished the last arrow he had. "What if it was Elizabeth?"

"Excuse me?"

Feeling his aim had been correct he pressed on. "What if your situation was different and it was you in exile, on death's door, and Elizabeth was forced to beg for a chance to see you? Anne, please consider." Anne stiff posture seemed to relax and George knew he had hit a nerve.

"I will speak to the King for you." Her voice was emotionless.

"Thank you, my dear sister –

- I make no promises though as to the result." Anne interrupted.

"It is enough that you speak to him." George replied. With that, Anne made a wave of her hand that signaled the end of their interview. George bowed and left quietly. He knew Anne would be true to her word to him, but to what effect? He could only hope that the King would find it in his heart to grant Mary this one request.

* * *

><p>With no privy counsel business to hold his attention, George spent the remainder of the day wandering the grounds, hoping that he would soon hear news from Anne about her conversation with the King. Eventually the sun set and George was forced to retire to his room. He stayed awake much longer than was his custom in the hopes that a note would come. Three days passed in the same fashion and George was certain that he would be forced to return to Beaulieu empty handed when a page knocked on his door with a large envelope, sealed with the royal seal. Inside was letter that read:<p>

_By order of His Majesty, Henry, King of England. Her Ladyship, Mary Boleyn, Countess of Ormonde, shall have permission to visit with Her Royal Highness, the Dowager Princess of Wales. So long as she be accompanied at all times by her husband, George Boleyn, Lord Ormonde._

_Henry Rex_

George read the letter with excitement; Anne had kept her word. He only hoped it had not cost her too dearly with the King. Quickly, he packed what things he brought with him and prepared to return to Beaulieu. Dashing out of the room with the letter in hand, he saw Anne as she walked down the hall with her ladies in waiting. He made a deep bow, and rising back up, kissed the paper and pressed it to his heart, mouthing his thanks to her. She gave him a nod and a small sad smile in response.

Of course, neither Anne nor George noticed the pair of eyes that observed them closely, but Jane Parker made a note of everything.

* * *

><p>"So, what exactly are you saying, Mistress Parker?" The Duke of Suffolk leaned back in his chair and gave her searching look.<p>

"Nothing specific, Your Grace, only that the Lady Anne and her brother the Earl of Ormonde had a private conference, in her chambers. Then, this morning, he did kiss a note after bowing to her and mouthed some words in her direction, at the which she did smile."

"My G-d! A love note? It must be, there is no other explanation. She has bewitched even her own brother!" Ambassador Chapuys placed a hand over his mouth. He knew the Boleyns were an evil breed, but to engage in such a disgusting thing as incest, this was more than even he could contemplate. "His Majesty must be informed of this at once!"

"Calm yourself Ambassador. The Lady is again with child, giving the King hope that he may yet sire an heir by her. She also still has powerful friends, one in particular, being Lord Cromwell. He owes his rise to her and may be willing to protect her from the King. We must more certain proof of crimes before we advance against them. Mistress Parker, do you know what was in the letter the Earl had upon him?"

"No, Your Grace." She bowed her head, if only she had found some way to get it off him, but he had been at the opposite end of the hall and had quickly moved away from them.

"Thank you Mistress Parker, you have proved a most useful ally." Jane bowed to the two gentleman and took her leave to return to her chambers. Brandon turned to look at Chapuys. "That was not helpful. At this moment, the King will not look favorably at mere speculation against the Lady."

"But Your Grace, surely a crime such as this cannot go unreported! I must insist, Her Highness, the Princess Mary cannot be allowed to continue to live in such close proximity to a monster such as that!" Chapuys sputtered. The memory of seeing his Princess in the arms of that – that thing – he could hardly bear it.

"Mister Ambassador, please. You must trust me. We need to bide our time, as any good huntsman does, until our prey is _exactly_ where we want it."

"Yes, Your Grace, I understand completely. But please, we have delayed long enough. We must at least begin to find some means of enticing the King away from that Great Whore."

"We will. I shall be away from Court for a few days on business at my estates, during which I will be stopping at the estate of Sir John Seymour, he may perhaps have some suggestions."

"Sir John Seymour, Your Grace? But has he not signed the Oaths?" Chapuys was a bit incredulous, though he trusted the Duke's instincts.

"Like myself, Ambassador, appearances can be deceiving. Sir John still holds to the true Church."

"Well, then I hope he is able to be of use in our plans."

"I believe he will indeed, Ambassador. I believe he will." The Duke took a sip from a glass of wine on the table and his lips curled into a slight smile. "Would you care for a game of chess, Ambassador? I have a feeling you wish to reclaim some of the dignity you lost in our last match."

"It would be most enjoyable." The two men moved to the table in the corner where the set was placed and commenced the movement of queens, knights, and pawns.

* * *

><p>AN: I finished the bar exam today so working on this chapter was my post-bar gift to myself. I hope you all enjoy it.


	9. Your Heart is True

Chapter Nine - Your Heart is True

April 20, 1534 – Road to Kimbolton Catle

Sitting in the carriage, Mary anxiously clutched the chain of a gold necklace in her hands and ran her thumb over the jeweled pendant in the shape of a pomegranate.

_Because Hampton Court was directly on the path to the Dowager Princess's estate, Mary and George were permitted to break their journey there overnight, though Mary was not granted an audience with her father. Instead upon arriving, a page gave her a note from Queen Anne requesting her presence. Mary, not wishing to give her father any cause to change his mind, obliged. _

_Upon arriving at Anne's chambers, she was conducted inside by Mistress Shelton. Anne was seated by the window, engaged in sewing a shirt. Mary curtsied to her._

"_Your La-Majesty."_

"_Lady Mary, thank you for joining me. Please have a seat." She motioned to a chair. "Mistress Shelton, would you please fetch me that trinket I asked you to put aside this morning?" Madge gave a curtsey and went into an adjacent room. When she returned she had a gold necklace with a ruby encrusted pomegranate clasped in her hands, which she handed to Anne. "Lady Mary, since you are to see your mother, I was hoping that you might be kind enough to give this to her. You see, it is not much to my taste and it would be too much of a bother to have the royal jeweler refashion it. Besides, I believe it was a piece she brought with her from Spain."_

_At first, Mary did not know quite what to think. Was this some kind of cruel joke, to have her deliver a piece from amongst the crowned jewels, the jewels meant for the Queen, to her mother in exile? But as Mary read the expression on Anne's face she thought again. Perhaps Anne spoke truthfully that it was not to her taste, but it certainly would not have been a problem to have the jeweler refashion it. Hadn't numerous other pieces of her mother's already been melted down to satisfy Anne? Her father had already spent vast sums to have the monograms of him and her mother chipped away. So making over a little necklace would hardly have been a significant request. There was a sincerity in Anne's eyes, that for a brief moment reminded her of another Boleyn, which made her consider that this gift might truly be an olive branch of sorts. Despite the dismissive tone of her words, Mary was inclined to believe that this might be the first kind thing Anne Boleyn had ever done for her._

"_Thank you, your majesty. I will see that it is delivered to her."_

"_That will be all." Their interview at an end, Mary stood up, made her curtsey to Anne, and left, feeling strangely obliged to her._

Mary had been so happy when George returned from court bearing the letter, she had launched herself at him, embracing him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush. But now, a part of Mary was afraid to see her mother. They had not met for nearly five years, she had grown, and changed, she was eighteen now, a woman. Would her mother approve of her? In nearly all particulars she followed her mothers instructions, continuing to pray mass, say her rosary, and study her bible. Yet, she worried if that would be enough to satisfy her.

Though she would not admit it, she was also concerned about what her mother would think of George. They had been married for nearly ten months, though they did not live as husband and wife. Something in Mary desperately needed her mother to approve of him. Perhaps if her mother approved of George she would not be so racked with guilt when her mind drifted towards him at night.

Shaking her from her reverie, George's horse trotted up besides the carriage and he called inside to her.

"It should not be long now, perhaps another hour's ride before we arrive. Do you wish to press on, or do you need to rest?"

"I would like to press on." Mary wanted to get to Kimbolton before anxiety got the best of her and she had them turn around.

* * *

><p>An hour later, just as George predicted, they arrived and Mary stood aghast as she looked at the manor in which her mother was housed. The manor itself was small and old. The gardens were overgrown around the outside and the paint around the windowpanes was chipped and flaking. George took Mary's arm and they walked to the door where they were greeted by the stern visage of Anthony Eddington, the keeper of the manor.<p>

"Who calls?" Eddington growled in his low voice.

"George Boleyn and Mary Boleyn, Earl and Countess of Ormonde. I have a command from the King, granting us permission to visit with Her Highness, the Dowager Princess." George took the letter from this doublet and handed it to Eddington who read it intently.

"Very well than. Lady Elizabeth Darrell can conduct you upstairs to Her Highness's chambers." They were then led into the entryway. "Stay here and I shall fetch Lady Darrell." Waiting gave Mary a greater opportunity to exam the surroundings. The wooden floors were old and creaked with each movement. A pervasive smell of dust and mildew overwhelmed the entirety of the place. Mary felt her heart sink. How could the King send her mother to such a place? Was he truly willing to submit his wife of twenty years to such poverty?

Soon they were joined by a somber looking young blonde woman who curtsied to both of them. "I am Lady Elizabeth Darrell, Her Majesty's lady-in-waiting. I will take you upstairs to see her." She pointed them towards a narrow staircase, which they began to climb, each step creaking and groaning from the unaccustomed weight of visitors. Mary followed directly behind Lady Darrell, with George behind her.

"How is my mother, Lady Darrell? The letter gave me only the briefest of descriptions of her condition."

"She is indeed in great pain, but says little of it. I try to keep her at ease with a fire and teas made with herbal remedies a local apothecary has provided. Her spirits are low though, I feel from lack of society. I believe your coming here will improve her greatly."

"Thank you. I am most grateful for you kind attentions to her."

"There is no need for thanks. She has always been a good and kind mistress, and it is the very least I could do."

"That may be so, but there are few who have." By this time they reached the top of the staircase and had walked to a door in the middle of a long hall. Mary's heart began to thud inside her chest as Lady Darrell opened the door. Inside the room was dark, with a small fire burning. Facing the fireplace there was a large, worn armchair where her mother sat. Seeing her mother, Mary had to contain her urge to dash to her and sweep her into an embrace. Instead, she remained in place by the door with George as Lady Darrell walked forward and announced them.

"Mary? My Mary, she's here?" Slowly, Katherine got up from her chair. Her face was older and more drawn than Mary had known it, but it was her mother. Katherine raised her arms up and Mary fairly flew into them. Lady Darrell left the room immediately while George remained by the door watching as mother and daughter embraced. She took Mary's face in her hands and studied it. "How did you manage to come here? Did Ambassador Chapuys manage to convince the King?"

"No, Mama. It was George, he spoke with him." Mary smiled as she looked back over at George.

"Indeed." Her look was icy as she took in his appearance. "Thank you for your efforts."

George bowed to her. "You are most welcome Ma'am. You must forgive me, but I think I shall allow you both to speak in private." Mary smiled at him in thanks as he bowed to them both and left the room.

"Well, now, let me look at you." Katherine placed her hands on Mary's shoulders and held her at arms length as she examined her. "You've grown into a fine woman. Do you go to mass regularly and study your bible?"

"Yes mama."

"Have you kept your word to me, have you kept him from defiling you?" There was a slight quaver in the old Queen's voice as she asked this.

"Of course mama, George has been most gentlemanly and most kind to me."

"Hmph." The Queen sniffed. "No doubt for his own purposes." She then returned to her chair by the fire. Mary followed, and knelt beside the chair.

"I assure you mama there is not the slightest pretence about him."

"No pretense? He is a Boleyn, and what is more he is a heretic! Has he completely fooled you? You must shake off these childish fantasies or you will be taken in completely."

"Mama, please, understand there have been many times in which he could have taken advantage of me, but he has not. He has sought to do nothing more than place me at my ease and see to my comfort."

"And you do not think he has some agenda of his own?"

"I know he has mother, he has said so himself. He has been most honest and frank with me in all things. Mama, let us not spend the few hours we have together in dispute. I have brought you something." She took from the necklace from its pouch and handed it to her mother.

"How did – who gave you this? Was it the King?" Mary could sense the small note of hope in her mother's voice. She could tell that, in her mind, if the King had sent it along it would be a sign that there was hope he would return to her. Mary didn't know if it would be crueler to let her mom live with that hope or to quash it forever.

"No, mama. The Lady Anne - " Mary could not call her by the title of Queen in front of her mother, even if it would anger her father " – she bade me give it to you."

"Did she, well no doubt the King directed her to see it was returned to my possession. My parents gave this to me when I left to come to wed Prince Arthur. That harlot has taken everything else of mine; I feared she had kept hold of this one keepsake of mine as well. But it appears your father has prevailed upon her."

Mary felt a desperate need to change the conversation. Her mother seemed content to find some hope in the smallest of acts that somehow her claim to the throne would be recognized, her husband would return, and she would once again be proclaimed Queen of England.

"Mama, have I told you? I have been practicing some new pieces on the virginal, we have a very fine instrument at Beaulieu." Mary tired to interject cheerfully.

"I am glad to hear you have not forsaken it." Katherine smiled fondly at her daughter.

"Indeed, Mama. George encourages me to play and is quite an attentive audience." Mary could see her mother's eyes narrow at the mention of her husband, and she was surprised that more and more she had begun to think of him that way.

"Do you love him?"

"Mama, I – of course I do not." But she could feel her cheek begin to flush and she hoped her mother did not notice. "It is just that he has been good company to me while I am living at Beaulieu."

"Good. Never forget mija*, you are the heir to the throne of England. You are worthy of a far better man than the son of a knight, a man whose family not two generations ago were merchants. You are a Tudor, the daughter of a King and the granddaughter of their most Catholic Majesties Ferdinand and Isabelle. It is your destiny to succeed your father to the throne and to return this country to the true Church."

"Yes, Mama. She responded meekly. She knew what her mother expected of her, what Ambassador Chapuys and the Emperor expected of her, what every Catholic in the nation expected. But, a part of her no longer wished for that path. When her mother was first exiled from Court and it was clear what her father's intentions were in regards to the Lady Anne, Mary wanted nothing more than to retake her place. Now though, she could not deny that she never felt more at peace, more at home, than when she was at Beaulieu, playing the virginal, with George listening intently. However, she could never say this to the mother who had placed all her hopes of vindication upon her daughter.

"Mary, I am tired. Would you fetch me my shawl from the bed. I think I will rest here by the fire." Mary stood up from her position by her mother's chair and collected the worn shawl from the bed. She walked back to her mother and placed it about her shoulders and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "It warmed my hear to see you, my daughter. You have grown into such a lovely woman, and you will make a wonderful Queen."

"Thank you mama." She tried to keep the tears from choking her. Katherine closed her eyes and Mary turned and left the room. Walking downstairs, she found Lady Darrell seated in the drawing room stitching a shirt and occasionally throwing a sharp look at George who sat, oblivious to the piercing glances, reading a book.

Lady Darrell looked over at the doorway to see Mary standing there. "Is Her Majesty well?"

Mary nodded in response. "She has decided to rest."

"I would offer rooms for the evening, but we have none ready for visitors, seeing as we have so few."

"Thank you for your hospitality Lady Darrell." George stood up from the chair and walked over to Mary, noting her care-worn face. He softly asked her "Do you wish to find some place nearby where we may stay for the evening so you can visit again tomorrow?" Mary shook her head in reply. "Very well, we should bid our goodbyes then so that we may return to Court by nightfall."

Mary then walked over to Lady Darrell. "Thank you Lady Darrell for giving my mother such diligent care. You have truly been a good friend to her."

Lady Darrell made a deep curtsy to her. "Of course Your Highness. I hope that you will be able to return again soon."

"As do I." Mary replied sadly. With that, she and George left the manor. As she climbed into the carriage, Mary looked back at the decaying home before her and felt her eyes sting. Quickly she seated herself inside and gave a nod to let George know she was ready to leave.

* * *

><p>Arriving back at Whitehall, Mary went directly to her apartment. She didn't notice George follow her in, until she heard the door close behind her.<p>

"What do you want?" She said tartly.

"I wanted to see if you were well. You appeared quite upset as we were leaving Kimbolton."

"What do you expect!" She spat out. "My mother, the rightful Queen of England is living in exile in a decrepit manor with one lady to wait upon her while my father the King hold extravagant masks and banquets. While I – I am forced to pretend marriage to the brother of the woman who has caused her immeasurable pain."

"Mary –"

"No! Do not say anything!" Suddenly every emotion she had suppressed poured out of her. "I hate him! I hate my father for leaving her, for exiling her to that place! I hate Anne for seducing him away from her! I hate my mother for loving him still! And – and I hate myself. Why was I not born a boy? Why am I not enough for him as I am?" Giant sobs racked her body.

George walked over to her and caught her up in his arms. "No! I don't – I don't…" She pounded at his chest with her fists, but eventually she gave herself over to his calming presence. He stroked her hair and rocked her as she continued to cry. Eventually, she began to tire and she felt her self being lifted off her feet and placed on the bed. She opened her eyes and caught George's hand as he began to walk away. "Please, stay with me." George looked about for a chair. "No, here. I don't want to be alone."

George lay down on the bed next to her, and she curled herself up by his side and placed her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. Her tears began to dry up and as she drifted off to sleep she thought she heard a small voice whisper in her ear, "You are enough for me."

* * *

><p>May 5, 1534 – Beaulieu<p>

The week that passed after their returned to Beaulieu was perhaps the most awkward since they had first arrived. Neither of them spoke of the evening they shared a bed together and neither mentioned Mary's impassioned outburst. Still, she wanted to thank him for convincing the King to allow her to visit with her mother.

One night a furious storm raged outside. Unable to sleep, Mary climbed out of bed and, grabbing her dressing robe and slippers, padded down the hall to George's chamber. George answered her knock obviously awoken from his sleep.

"I was having trouble sleeping. The storm – I have never slept well during a storm. May I sleep here?"

George nodded "Come in." He began to walk over to the chair by his desk.

"There is no need for that." She said shyly. "After all, we have already shared a bed once, have we not?" She let out a soft chuckle.

"Of course, if that is what you wish."

They lay there, silently for a while, neither knowing what, if anything they should say to the other. Eventually, Mary decided she needed to speak. "I wanted to thank you for helping me visit my mother. It meant the world to me."

"Your welcome. Though, it is truly Anne you should be thanking, it was she who spoke to the King and convinced him.

"And you convinced her, and I thank you for that. I also wanted to apologize for my outburst the other day. I was not myself."

"You have nothing to apologize for. You have been placed in a difficult position. It is only natural that it would provoke strong feelings."

"Thank you, again." Mary lay quiet, but then something pricked at her mind and she turned to face George. "You have been so good to me, since the moment we were thrown together, you have been nothing but kind and patient, even when you had every reason not to."

George turned to face her in response. "When I was first told of our marriage, I thought, now here is an easy way for me to continue my present bachelor life, for such a wife will never expect much from me as a husband. But, then I saw you, and you were so beautiful and I realized how innocent and how trusting you were. I could not take advantage of that. Whatever the rumors of my recklessness may be."

A curl fell onto his face and Mary moved to push it back. As she began to withdraw her hand, George caught it with his and bringing it to his lips, kissed the inside of her palm and then the back of her hand. Without thinking, or knowing what she was doing, Mary leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He responded to her kiss intently. Quickly the kisses grew deeper and more passionate, hands began to roam. Mary felt her heart beat faster as every nerve in her body seemed to respond to his touch. She wanted more. George rolled on top of her and she began to tug at his nightshirt, when he suddenly stopped and pulled away from her, leaving Mary momentarily breathless.

"Are you sure about this? You understand, after this, there is no turning back."

Mary smiled. "I know. And I wish to be your wife, in all ways." She then pulled him towards her and kissed him.

Mary had heard the term intimacy used many a time in different contexts, but she never truly understood the depth of its meaning until that night. It hurt a bit, though George was gentle and solicitous, but she would not have traded the pain away for anything. For that night they were no longer two solitary individuals. As they drifted into sleep together, Mary felt as though for the first time, the shifting sands upon which her life had stood the past few years had solidified.

*Mija is spanish for "my daughter"

* * *

><p>AN - Thanks again everyone for the wonderful reviews. They make my day. Its odd - I really had no idea of ever touching this pairing with a 10 foot pole. But eventually it hit me as an interesting idea so I figured, why not. Let me tell you, the more I've written them, the more I've loved them as a pair.


	10. My Every Thought is Bent Upon It

Chapter Ten – My Every Thought is Bent Upon It

Mary 10, 1534 – Whitehall

When the Duke of Suffolk returned from his visit to his estates he appeared to Chapuys to be almost positively giddy.

"_Ambassador, I believe I have found the perfect bait with which to snare the King." Brandon began one evening over a game of cards._

"_Have you indeed, Your Grace?" Chapuys looked up from his hand._

"_Remember I mentioned that I would be stopping off on my way to my estates at the home of Sir John Seymour? Well, it appears that Sir John has a daughter, three to be precise, but it is the elder girl, Jane who caught my attention. She is as fair a maid as one could ask for, meek and obedient as well."_

"_What of her faith?"_

"_Like her father, she is an adherent to the true Church. Her family assures me that, with proper guidance, she would be a most excellent match for the King."_

"_That is welcome news, Your Grace. But, pray tell me, how shall we place Lady Jane in a position to win his notice?"_

"_The King wishes to go out hunting soon to take his mind off the cares of state. I shall lead him out to Wolf Hall, the family seat. Believe me when I tell you, Ambassador, that once there he will not fail to notice Lady Jane's charms."_

Chapuys smiled as he took a small miniature out of the drawer by his bed and gazed at it, caressing the frame. Their plans were coming into form. Soon, his beloved Princess would no longer be in the clutches of that damned ape.

* * *

><p>May 15, 1553 - Beaulieu<p>

The past few weeks, George had never known such happiness. Their days were spent enjoying the spring days with picnics and their nights were spent making love. One evening as Mary lay curled up by George's side he could sense something pricked at her mind.

"Is there something on your mind, love? You are very quiet this evening."

"No, I am only tired. Well, maybe, I just, I wonder - have you bedded many women before me?" She smiled and played with his hair, her tone was light. She had to have assumed that a man of George's age and reputation had shared his bed with other women before her.

George laughed. "Mary! You know a gentleman does not speak of such things."

"Please?" She asked, trailing little kisses down his neck to his collarbone in a most pleasing manner. "I want to know. I promise I won't be angry."

"Mmmmm…see when you ask me questions in such a manner, you make it well nigh impossible to refuse to answer."

"So?" She propped herself up on her elbow next to him. "Was it five or ten or twenty?" George laughed at her insistence.

"I did not keep a precise count, love."

"Aaah, so it was that many." She gently tapped his nose and grinned. Then her face turned serious. "Did you love any of them?" He looked into her eyes which were unsure and vulnerable.

"No." He said honestly, caressing her face gently. "There were many I lusted after, some whose company I enjoyed, and a few I considered friends, but none I loved as I do you. You mean the world to me, and I would do anything to make you happy." He pulled her in for a kiss and hoped that it would answer whatever doubts she had.

"Must you go to court next week?"

"Unfortunately, I must. The King hopes to begin a program of dissolving the monasteries and we must make provisions for the division of the assets." George looked over at Mary's face and could see her brow furrow and her lips tighten. "You do not approve?"

"Of course not, you know how I feel about my father's movement away from the Catholic Church."

"I must say in this case, while I support the reformed faith, I believe that the King is following some poor advise on the part of Lord Cromwell."

"How so?"

"Well, my sister and I had recommended to the King that the funds from the dissolution be used to form schools for the poor families of the locality, and that the land should be distributed to them as well."

Mary looked pensive. "I suppose if the monasteries are to be dissolved it would be best if the proceeds were expended on charitable purposes. What is Lord Cromwell's proposal?"

"He believes the funds would be best used in filing the royal coffers, and I suspect not a little to his own pockets." The very thought angered George. This reformation was meant to be for the benefit of the people, to free them from the superstitions of the Catholic Church. What funds there were from the dissolution of the old church should be spent aiding them.

"My God! Do you have any proof? You should speak of this immediately to my father George." Mary propped herself up on her elbow again and looked at him earnestly.

"Sadly, I have no proof, only supposition, and I would hate to ruin a man's reputation on a suspicion alone. No, I cannot go to your father until I am absolutely certain. It is a shame if it is true anyway, since I had previously thought so well of him. He is an intelligent man, and a capable advisor."

"Be careful, George. If Lord Comwell is as powerful as you have said he may be able to manipulate my father against you."

"Do not worry, my love. I am more than capable of investigating with discretion. Now, calm you mind, you should try and get some sleep."

Mary let out a small yawn and rested her head back on George's chest. "Shall we ride out to the north field tomorrow? I hear there are some lovely violets blooming on the hillside and I should like to see them." Her eyes began to close.

"If that is what you wish, I believe we can take a picnic there." He stroked her hair and he felt her breath grow deeper as she drifted towards sleep.

"That would be lovely." She murmured and finally gave in to her exhaustion. George stayed awake a little while longer. He enjoyed watching Mary sleep, she was very peaceful, though occasionally she would furrow her brow and crinkle her nose slightly. The first time he noticed it, he was forced to stifle a laugh, for fear of waking her. Now as he lay there tracing small circles on Mary's back, George considered how best to approach the question of Lord Cromwell. A direct approach was not obviously not the best, though doubtless it would be Anne's choice, she seemed to thrive on confrontation. No, Lord Cromwell was a subtle minded man and thus required subtlety to combat whatever plans he might have. When he returned to court tomorrow he would begin making a few simple inquiries into Lord Cromwell's finances.

* * *

><p>May 16, 1534 – Lord Cromwell's Chambers, Whitehall<p>

Lord Cromwell had, with skill, survived not only the overthrow of his mentor, Cardinal Wolsey, but also his predecessor, Thomas More. He was also a devout reformer. But, more than anything else, Thomas Cromwell knew opportunity when he saw it. The overthrow of the Church in England would not only throw off the weight of Rome and its superstition from the people but it would also provide a valuable new stream of revenue. New revenue would mean new patronages, which would give the King the ability to buy the loyalty of the nobility. There would be no more Buckinghams. And, if a little happened to end up in his pocket, no one would notice or blame him. He knew however, that the Queen was not in agreement, and that she was beginning to suspect him. It was an unusual position for him. The Boleyns had, after all, been of great assistance to his rise in the King's favor and in achieving his current position. However, in this court Cromwell knew that if one wanted to keep his head, his allegiance had best be as subtle as his mind.

Cromwell had been aware for quite some time of the intimate meetings between His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk and the Imperial Ambassador. He also had a fair idea of what they were discussing. The Duke of Suffolk was a supporter of the Catholic Church and the Princess Dowager. As for the Imperial Ambassador, his feelings on the recent marriage of the Lady Mary and the Acts of Supremacy and Succession were quite obvious for all to see. It, therefore, did not require a great deal to leap to the conclusion that they were conspiring against Queen Anne.

While the complicity of the two men was clear, what was less so was what use he should make of this information. As far as he saw it he had two options: join the conspiracy and find himself on the side of a potentially victorious palace coup or inform the Queen of the conspiracy, cementing his loyalty, and possibly be forced to explain to the King why he supported a Queen he wished to rid himself of. Of course there was a third option, he could simply watch as events moved and then decide upon which side he would weight in. Thomas Cromwell was not a man of inaction, but he knew in some circumstances a wise man did nothing. A wise man waited until it was clear that one party was stronger than another and only then did he make a move in one direction or another.

* * *

><p>On his journey to court George passed the time deciding on what sort of gift he would return to Beaulieu with. It would have to be something more than a trinket of course. Perhaps Mary would enjoy a small dog? A little lap dog, such as the one Anne kept was never an unwelcome present, yet, George could not help thinking that it was a highly impersonal one. Maybe some jewels, a new fur, or some silks for a new gown? No, each was equally as impersonal as the dog. Perhaps she would appreciate another visit with her mother? Yet her last visit had left her so emotionally drained and fragile that it seemed a poor gift, but it did give George an idea. While a visit to her mother may not be the best idea, perhaps he could arrange to have the Kimbolton refurbished. With new flooring, windows, and the an addition of a doctor and a nursemaid, perhaps the Dowager Princess's remaining days could be spent in comfort. This he felt would please Mary greatly. To know her mother was well cared for would ease Mary's conscience greatly. Yes, that is what he would bring back to Mary: permission to refurbish and provide new servants at Kimbolton, and of course the dog.<p>

Upon arriving at court, George paid his traditional call upon his sister in her chambers, which he felt would also provide the perfect opportunity to make his request to Anne of the funds for Kimbolton.

When he was escorted into her chamber, George noticed that his sister was paler than usual and rather listless as she sat staring outside the window.

"Your Majesty." George bowed to Anne and she looked up and gave him a warm smile, but one that did not completely reach her eyes.

"George – it is good to have you back." Anne stood up from her seat and embraced him. "How was your journey?"

"Long, but the weather was good, so I didn't mind so much." The two walked over to the settee Anne had occupied before George's arrival. Examining his sister's face, it was evident she slept little as there were dark circles around her eyes and her eyes were red. "Are you well?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Usually so in tune with his sister's moods, George was so anxious to ask for the favor regarding the refurbishment of Kimbolton that he missed the warning note in Anne's voice and rushed ahead.

"I was wondering if you might make a request to the King for me."

"Of course, anything for my dear brother." Anne smiled at him.

"Well, you see when Mary and I visited the Dowager Princess at Kimbolton we were surprised at the condition of the manor. I was wondering if perhaps you could petition the King to permit me to use some of my own funds to make some renovations and provide for an apothecary to care for her as well as another servant to look after the estate –

"Absolutely not!"

"But, Anne you should see –

Anne bounded up from her seat. "I do not give a damn! That woman has made it her life's goal to torment me and thwart me at every turn! No doubt she prays daily that my womb becomes as infertile as her own has been – her and that loathsome daughter of hers! I could not care less if she were confined to the vilest hut in the vilest quarter of this country!"

"Anne? What has happened to you?" He walked over to her and tried to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she promptly knocked aside.

"What has happened to me? What has happened to me?" Anne shrieked. "I wasted my youth waiting for that stubborn ass of a woman to realize that she had no right to the title of Queen. Years in which I could have been married to Henry and given him the strong healthy sons she could not! But now, now everything is ruined! No, I will not move an inch to help that harpy!"

He walked over to her and placed his hands on either side of her face. "Anne, this is not you. This is not my fine brave sister." He looked her in the eyes. "What has he done to you?"

At this Anne let out a great sob and collapsed into his arms. "He hates me George. I've lost my son and I've lost my husband. He has not come to my bed in weeks and he barely speaks to me. I know he blames me for the baby, for More and Fisher being imprisoned. I don't know what to do, how to make him love me again." He wrapped his sister in his arms and whispered soothing words to her. Of course he did not see the pair of shrewd eyes that observed the two from behind door to the other room. Slowly, Anne's sobs began to subside and he walked her back over to the settee where they both sat down again. George handed her his kerchief and she dried her eyes.

"So, More and Fisher still refuse to sign the Oaths?" Anne nodded.

"They plead their conscience. They want to martyred."

"Do you believe that More and Fisher are men of their word – men of honor."

"I suppose, but what of that?"

"I believe that often a man's silence can be as powerful as his words. What if More and Fisher were not forced to sign the Oaths?"

"But everyone must sign!" Anne looked askance at her brother.

"True, but what if we could make people believe that they signed. Say we offer More and Fisher their lives in exchange for their promise to never speak or write about the Oaths or the King's matter, to live plain private lives. Then the King could say to the public whatever he wished about them and they could not, on pain of death refute it. In the mean time they would keep their honor for having not submitted to signing."

George could see that Anne's quick mind was considering all the possible outcomes. "It could work." Anne seemed to brighten considerably. "Oh George, thank you! Thank you so much!" She flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "You are my favorite brother."

"I am your only brother." He said laughing. "Better now?" Anne nodded. "Good, so, no more tears, now. And no more cursing my wife." He gave another quick laugh

"So, the Lady Mary has grown on you has she? Has my little brother fallen in love? Is he quite bewitched?"

George blushed. "I believe I am. I only wish that you two were not such enemies."

"Do you truly wish us to become better acquainted?"

"Well, it would certainly make my life easier if the two women I cared for most in the world were at peace with each other."

"Very well, for you I shall do my best. I will speak to the King about refurbishing Kimbolton if that would please you."

"Thank you. Now! I was told that there was to be quite the feast at this evening's meal as well as dancing."

"Indeed! I have arranged for a brand new troop of dancers on tour from Florence to come and perform this evening."

They spent the rest of the interview discussing the qualities of Florentine dancers as opposed to French ones. In the end George left quite satisfied that his sister was better in body and in spirit.

* * *

><p>It was the middle of the night but still Archbishop Cramner hurried down the halls of the palace towards the King's chambers. One of the King's men had awoken him from a sound sleep to inform him that the King was in need of his counsel. He did not even have the time to ask or even think what could disturb the King's spirit to such an extent that he required the aide of his archbishop. A horrible passed through his mind – perhaps the King was ill, perhaps even near death! He would leave his kingdom in a perilous position, Cramner in particular. There were still many who clung to the old faith. Those who wished to return England to the backwardness of Catholicism. What would become of him if the King should perish before his great work had been completed, before the reformation had truly begun to take hold?<p>

Arriving at the King's chambers Cramner was relieved beyond words to find that, rather than near death in his bed, the King was pacing the room obviously quite agitated.

"Your majesty." Cramner bowed low. "You summoned me."

The King waived off his other servants and flung himself into nearby chair.

"I believe G-d has cursed me, Archbishop."

"Cursed you, your majesty?"

"I thought that when I annulled my marriage to Catherine it would remove the taint of the sin of laying with my brother's wife, that finally G-d would see fit to grant me a son. But no, now Anne has failed me as well."

"I don't believe your majesty is cursed. You have only been wed to her majesty for a year and these things, I'm told take time."

"I need a son!" The King slammed his fist down upon the arm of his chair. "I cannot afford to leave the kingdom to a girl. Honestly! What would happen if I died tomorrow? Hmm? I ask you? What would happen? Little Elizabeth would be Queen. She may be my daughter and a bright little thing, but no girl could keep the throne for long. Damn it all!"

"IIIIff, I may ask, your majesty, have you – have you shared the Queen's bed recently?"

The King's face turned sour. "If I even do so much as glance at another lady in court she throws a fit! She's a harridan and a scold."

"I'm sure her majesty is merely distressed from the recent loss of the child, your majesty. I'm told that with women these things always come out as scolding. I'm sure a few soft words from you will ease things between you."

"Perhaps. Say what you will of Catherine but at least she knew how to behave herself. She never complained when I took an interest in another woman, never chided me for Bessie Blout or the others."

"I'm sure it is not but the great love she holds for you that keeps her majesty on edge."

The King let out a sigh. "Thank you, Archbishop for ministering to me this evening. I believe I shall sleep much better."

"Your majesty." Cramner bowed and left the room. He was still shaken by their conference as he finally returned to the Archbishop's palace. It was quite obvious to him that the Queen's position was a perilous one, and with it his own. He respected Queen Anne and her zeal for the reformation and he knew that he should speak to her about making herself more agreeable to the King's will. That, and he would pray for her to have a son, as it would be the only thing to keep the King's affections.


	11. Author's Note

A/N

Forgot to append my usual author's note. I apologize for the wait for the chapter. Between the bar exam and the celebratory trip afterwards, I haven't had a lot of time to check in on the story, but I hope it was worth the wait for you all.

Next, the idea of More being bought with his silence isn't mine, but another author who I haven't been able to remember, so you must forgive me.

Enjoy!


	12. Winter of Our Discontent

Chapter 11 – Winter of Our Discontent

September 1534 – Beaulieu

When George returned from Court at the end of May, he surprised Mary with a small puppy. The puppy had a red ribbon around its neck to which he had attached a rolled up piece of parchment. Unrolling the parchment she was overwhelmed to find a promise from her father permitting George to pay for refurbishment to her mother's estate as well as an apothecary and nurse. There seemed little else Mary could ask for that would make her life complete. She had a loving husband, a comfortable home, and the knowledge that her mother would be taken care of. Now she waited anxiously for the arrival of a midwife to examine her – to possibly give her information that would make her happiness complete. She thought back to yesterday's conversation with Mistress Keppel, the conversation that had brought about the lady's impending visit.

_Stroking little Chipper's soft fur she examined the plans for an expansion to the upper floor of Kimbolton. Perhaps it was the late afternoon sun or the comfortable warmth of the fire, but Mary felt tired, much as she had the past few weeks. _

"_My goodness My Lady, have you eaten all that?" Mistress Keppell's exclamation shook Mary awake. "You've had quite an appetite recently. One would almost think you might be…"_

"_Might be what, Mistress Keppell?" Mary was curious, it was unlike the gregarious housekeepr to keep her thoughts to herself._

"_Well, my lady, if I recall, you've not had your courses in quite a while." Mistress Keppell busied herself cleaning up the table and straightening the papers._

"_No, no I haven't." It dawned on Mary that nearly two months had passed, why she had not noticed it before, considering how painful they normally were for her. It took Mary only a moment before she realized what this could mean. "Do you think, Mistress Keppell, do you think I might be with child?"_

_Mistress Keppell stopped her bustling about. "It seems quite likely my lady." She smiled broadly at Mary who placed a hand on her stomach._

"_I suppose we should call for an midwife."_

"_Absolutely my lady. My, won't his lordship be pleased. It's been a long time since I've had a little master or mistress to look after."_

_Mary nodded and allowed herself to imagine holding a little baby in her arms, small and pink, a little boy who would doubtlessly be the image of his father. George was down at the east fields at the moment speaking with some of the tenants there about the fall harvest. He had been home for a week from his latest sojourn to court, and had brought Mary some wonderful news. As George described it, after months of persuasion, Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fischer had been convinced to trade their life for their silence. It was, in a way, a solution that would allow both parties to maintain some degree of honor. While her father would be able to claim victory over his critics, More and Fischer would have the comfort of knowing that they had never signed the Oaths they found distasteful. Since he Apparently, Anne had gone to the King and begged mercy for the two devout, honest men. Though Mary could well believe Anne did not want their deaths on her head, or the anger and disapprobation it would bring, she was sure the idea was all George's._

Finally, Mistress Fincher, the local midwife, appeared to examine Mary after George had gone on his daily rounds about the estate. She asked Mary various questions about her appetite, her courses. Then she bade Mary lie down upon her bed as she felt her stomach, and examine her breasts for the typical swelling. Mary looked on nervously as the older woman went about her business in silence. She longed for her say something, anything soothing or consoling, even if it was only to tell her that she was not in fact with child. After several more agonizing minutes, the grave faced woman told Mary that could sit up.

"Well, my lady, it appears that you are indeed with child, if I am not mistaken, about two months along in fact. The child should be born sometime in April."

Mary beamed. "Thank you Mistress Fincher. Thank you very much. This is the best news."

"Now," Mistress Fincher pronounced, clearly not willing to brook any argument, "before I discuss your diet with Mistress Keppell, I should tell you that you should limit your exercise. A few turns about the garden will be sufficient, but by no means more. I'll give you a packet of herbs that you should place under your pillow at night to aid your rest."

"I appreciate all your assistance Mistress Fincher. I shall not fail to follow your advice." Mary stood up from the bed and arranged her dress and began to re-pin her hair.

"Very good, my lady. If you have no questions I shall go speak with Mistress Keppell now. I shall return in two weeks time to examine your progress."

Mary walked downstairs ahead of Mistress Fincher, her hand running over her abdomen imagining the life that grew inside. Seating herself on the sofa she allowed her eyes to close and drifted off into pleasant late afternoon nap. A few hours later Mary was awoken by a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Sleeping?" George asked with a smile as he sat down beside her. Mary placed her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm about her.

"Hmmm. A little. How was your conversation with the tenants?"

"It went very well, they are happy with the new apportionment of farm land and the plans for the harvest market and fair are coming along."

"I am glad. When do you next go to court?"

"Not till Christmas darling, unless of course there is emergency. The King is going on a fall progress. In fact he plans to travel within a few miles of here."

"Really?" Mary shot up from position curled up beside George. "So close? Will he come here? When does he expect to arrive?" The words tumbled out of her with the exuberance of a small child on Christmas morning.

"Calm yourself my dear." George chuckled. "I have spoken with him and, I believe that His Majesty may be prevailed upon to rest here for a few days before he turns north."

"Oh George!" Mary threw her arms about her husband and covered his face with kisses.

"Are you happy?" George smiled as he brushed the hair from her face.

"Happier than I could have ever imagined for I have some news that will please you."

"Go ahead, love."

"I am with child."

* * *

><p>September 1534 – Wolf Hall<p>

Sir John Seymour paced the floor of the great hall while his daughter Jane sat at the table her hands primly folded in her lap. Edward Seymour sat at the head of the table, leaning back into his chair with his cool eyes trained upon his father. Thomas sat with his elbow on the arm of his chair and his head leaning on his hand while he tried to stifle a yawn.

"Do you really believe the King will stop here, at Wolf Hall, father?" Edward asked in even tones as though his mind were involved in some methodical calculation.

"That is what I have been informed by his Grace, the Duke of Suffolk. The King is anxious for his progress to stop on its way north. His Grace particularly asked that you Jane attend His Majesty most closely." Sir John ceased his pacing behind his daughters chair and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I will of course pay the King every courtesy. His Majesty is a good King, it is only a shame he is under the power of that harlot." Jane hissed her normally placid face scrunched up into a sour look.

"Now, now Janey." Sir John patted his daughter's shoulders. "It is the King's command that Lady Anne is the Queen, and as we have taken the Oath and she is to be here as well, we must accustom ourselves to referring to her as the Queen, lest something slip and the King believe we are disloyal."

"Of course father." Jane let out a sigh. "But it is very unfair. She has treated Queen Katherine most abominably, and Lady Mary too! Marrying her off to that ape of a brother!"

"That, dear sister, is exactly why our father and the Duke wish for you to pay the King special attention. They believe that you may be able to catch the King's eye and thereby loosen the Queen's hold upon him, and perhaps bringing the country back to the Church, correct father?"

Sir John shifted uncomfortable. "Yes – well yes that is correct."

"You mean you wish me to become the King's mistress?" Thomas nearly fell out of his chair at Jane's questions.

Sir John sighed and nodded.

"Very well. If it will help Queen Katherine and Princess Mary, and of course the church, than it is what I must do."

"Thank you Janey, I knew we could rely upon you." Sir John kissed her on the cheek and gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulders. "His Grace and Sir Nicholas Carew shall be arriving in a few days to speak with you about how best to capture the King's attention."

"I shall attend most carefully, father."

"Good, good." Sir John seemed then a bit at a loss for what to say next. "Well, I must attend to some business now, but I leave you to begin to prepare yourself."

As Sir John left the room, Thomas rushed over to his sister. "Jane, Janey, my G-d! What an opportunity, what an honor! If you succeed we could have anything we ask for! Places at court, estates, titles!"

Jane smiled at her brother's exuberance. "Calm yourself, brother. We must first think of the great deal of good we can do by releasing the hold that Harlot has over the King. We can see the country returned to the one true Church, and Princess Mary and Queen Katherine restored to their rightful places."

The three raised their glasses and said in unison, "Queen Katherine and Princess Mary!"

* * *

><p>October 1534 – Beaulieu<p>

As soon as George had informed Mary of her father's impending visit, she began putting all her energy into transforming humble Beaulieu. George gave her carte blanch to refurbish the house, some of which she continued to spend on Kimbolton, but a good deal went into hiring builders to construct additions to the building and gardeners to create new gardens. As her morning sickness subsided she began to feel her energy return and devoted endless hours to the various projects that required completion before the King arrived. Mary become so engrossed in the preparations that George had to remind her that she needed rest and to eat for the sake of the baby.

"Truly Mary, I believe that Mistress Keppel and the Steward have all well in hand and will ensure that the refurbishments are completed satisfactorily. You need not personally oversee everything." George said with a note of jovial exasperation in his voice one night as he walked into their bedchamber to find Mary in bed reading a parchment full of details on timber and shingles.

Mary sighed. "Of course they can, but I feel responsible. It is my father after all and I do wish him to feel at ease here. "

"And he shall, dearest, I promise you that." George leaned over, kissing Mary, and then placed a gentle hand on her swelling stomach. "And how are you feeling today?"

"Very well. I no longer feel ill during the day and the food Mistress Keppel has been preparing has agreed with me, plain though it its. Do you know where my father will stop after he leaves here."

"Yes, apparently he intends to travel on to Wolf Hall, the home of the Seymour family. Do you know them?"

Mary put her parchment down for a moment and considered. "Hmmm. Seymour? The name is familiar. I think perhaps the eldest daughter, Jane, might have been a lady-in-waiting to my mother while she was..." At the thought of her mother, Mary's voice trailed off.

"And how is your mother?" George asked quietly.

"The reports from the doctors are fair. They say she is responding well to the medication but that her mind troubles her and her spirits are low. They think it hinders her care to be so melancholy."

"I am sorry to hear it. I had hoped that the improvements to the estate would improve her spirit. Would you like to visit her?"

Mary looked at her swelling belly and shook her head. She knew that, no matter how happy George made her, her mother would never accept him as her husband and their child – the knowledge that her daughter had broken her promise, it would kill her. "No, I do not think it wise. I must trust that she is in capable hands and that the doctors are able to see to her well-being."

"You have not mentioned the child to her in your letters, have you?" George's tone was matter of fact as though he new the answer.

"No. I have tried to many times, began the letter so many times. But every time I find I cannot write the words to her. Every time I try all I see is her face, such sadness."

"Are you sure she would not welcome the idea of a grandchild, the knowledge that you are happy and settled? Besides, once we tell the King it is bound to spread through the court and eventually to her. Would it not be kinder to tell her yourself?"

Mary sighed, George was of course correct and she must steal herself to tell her mother the truth. Besides, who is to say that all of the things Queen Katherine hoped for her daughter could not still be realized. Even if they were not, even if, G-d forbid, Anne gave birth to a son who became King or Elizabeth became Queen, Mary was happy as she was and she should be bold enough to tell her mother so. "Of course you are right, it is far kinder. I shall write her tomorrow morning."

"Very good. Now," George said taking the parchment from Mary's hands against her protests "I believe it is time for you to sleep." With that he blew out the candle and Mary nestled down in the sheets. Mary's mind drifted to the letter she knew she must compose the next morning, but eventually, the soothing sounds of George's light snores helped her fall into a restful slumber.

* * *

><p>Three days later – Kimbolton Castle<p>

Katherine of Aragon sat in her chair by the large window in the first floor. It let in a good deal of light, which made it easier for her to read with her weakened eyes. The pain in her stomach today was manageable as the tea the doctor prepared did a great deal to sooth it. She was pleased this morning to find that a letter had been delivered from her daughter and now settled in to read its contents. She had to admit of late that her situation was much improved over when she was first exiled to this place. Renovations had been made to the estate, making the rooms larger and more comfortable and a doctor had been dispatched to ease her suffering. She was sure that it was a sign Henry was softening and that the whore was losing her power over him, for surely such actions could not have taken place without his knowledge and consent. It seemed only a matter of time before this ugly period in their marriage would over and she would once again be presiding over her husband's court.

_My Dearest Mother,_

_I hope you are well, and that the renovations to the estate are pleasing. George and I continue comfortably here at Beaulieu. He is as attentive and kind a husband as you could ask for. And what is more we have just received such blessed news. We recently learned that I am with child. I hope you will be as pleased to be grandmother as I am pleased to be a mother, for nothing could complete my happiness more than to know that is welcomed by one so dear to me. _

_Your loving and dutiful daughter,_

_Mary_

At first Katherine had to read the letter over to actually believe its contents. Her denial quickly wore away though.

"Mistress Darrell! Mistress Darrell!"

Elizabeth Darrell rushed to her Queen's side hearing her so distressed. "What is your majesty? Is it your stomach? Do you require more tea?"

"No, no." Katherine said, shaking her head. "It is this letter. It is my daughter. She has abandoned me."

"She has signed the Oaths, your majesty?" Mistress Darrell was shocked. She had always thought of Mary as such an obedient child, so attentive to her mother.

"No, but she writes me – she writes me that she is with child by the brother of that whore! She has betrayed me." Katherine let out some great heavy sobs and Mistress Darrell knelt down beside her chair.

"Oh your majesty, please do not be so downcast. All is not lost."

"How can you say that? She has fallen into their trap and become the pawn of that miserable family."

"But listen your majesty." Elizabeth Darrell spoke quickly grasping for some point of hope to keep her mistress from utter despair. "What if the child she has is boy? If the Lady Anne is unable to give him a son, perhaps the King will look to Princess Mary and her child as his heirs. He will throw Lady Anne aside and you will regain your rightful place by his side."

"Yes, but there will still be a Boleyn in a position of power. Will I never be rid of them?"

"His Lordship does not seem so very bad though? After all, he has allowed Lady Mary to have a private conference with you, despite the King's command that he be in attendance, and he has, out of his own pocket, paid for the renovations to the estate as well as the doctor."

"It is true. It is just, I had thought – I believed that it was all at the King's insistence. That he still loves me in some way. But you are right, even if the King no longer loves me, he will welcome a grandson.

With that Katherine made up her mind to welcome the impending birth of her daughter's child, the child who would be born to bring this country back from heresy.

* * *

><p>October 20, 1534 – Beaulieu Palace<p>

George watched as Mary stood anxiously in the entry way of the Beaulieu, awaiting the sound of hoof beats and the herald's horn signaling her father's arrival. He did not want to admit that he too was ill at ease. After all, while many men had the joy of telling their father-in-law that they would be a grandparent, few made these declarations to a King. But, he did not wish to add to Mary's distress by speaking of his owns anticipation so instead he walked over and wrapped his arms around her, hoping to provide her with some comfort.

"He shall be here before you know it." George said quietly into her ear.

Mary sighed. "I know, but it has been so long, and are last words were spoken in such anger. I wonder if he has forgiven me?"

"Of course he has. He would not be staying here if he did not."

"I wonder if Anne has forgiven me." Understanding Mary's difficulty at giving Anne the title of Queen, it had become custom between her and George to refer to her solely by her first name.

"Anne is under my instructions to be on her best behavior whilst she is here. Besides, I do believe she really wishes to know you better. After all, she knows how important you are to me, and to the King."

"And I know how important she is to you, and so I also promise to be on my best behavior."

George turned Mary to face him. "I have no doubt of that. You are a good and gracious hostess, and the best wife a man could ask for." As he kissed her the sound of the trumpets could be heard in the distance and they both knew the King had arrived.

Minutes later the King and Queen arrived at Beaulieu. As King Henry climbed down from his horse both Mary and George made their obeisance.

"Now, now, enough of that! We are family are we not!" It was obvious that the King was in a excellent mood. "Mary, my pearl. How are you? You look in excellent health! Better than I've seen you in ages, marriage suites you. Come, let me give you kiss." With that, the King swept Mary into an embrace and kissed her forehead. "Now, great your step-mother."

George hoped Mary recognized this as the test it was. She turned and curtsied low. "Your majesty." George was pleased that Mary managed to seem sincere in her greeting, perhaps this visit would go painlessly after all. Anne then embraced Mary and kissed her on both cheeks. She then took Mary's arm and asked if Mary would show her about the estate, to which Mary readily agreed. It warmed George's heart to see them on such even terms.

"Well then my Lord Ormonde, now that the ladies have abandoned us, will you not join me for a turn?" The King placed his arm about George's shoulders and steered him to the gardens, leaving him little choice.

"Of course your majesty. In fact I was hoping to have a moment alone with you, for I have some news which I hope will be as pleasing to you as it has been to me."

"I am listening George, pray continue."

"Well, your majesty, my wife, the Countess, is, it would appear, with child." At this the King stopped talking and turned to face George, placing his hands on George's shoulders, beaming.

"Truly! I am to be a grandfather?" The King's eyes seemed to twinkle.

"Yes, your majesty." The King then let out a great bark of a laugh and nearly doubled over.

"My G-d! Let's see Phillip out do me on this! For the very day you tell me I am to be a grandfather, I was set to tell you that I am once more to be a father!"

"Indeed, your majesty that is wonderful news!" George was thrilled, no wonder Anne looked less care worn than the last time he saw her.

"Good lord! I may be getting on in years George, but let no one doubt that there is not still vitality in this body yet! Come now that we have shared our news, let us both return to the house. Tonight we'll have a feast and I'll share both our blessed news with the whole of the court!"


	13. What Child is This?

A/N: Thanks everyone for the fabulous reviews! It's great to know people are keeping up with the story, despite my rather slow updating.

Chapter 12 – What Child is This?

October 20, 1534 – Beaulieu Palace

Chapuys raged alone in his chambers. With child! His Princess was with child by that ape, that heretic, that monster! The thought of his hands on her – he could strangle the man, or challenge him at the very least to combat. But unfortunately the King would hardly countenance an assault against his son-in-law, the brother of his darling. To make it worse, that great Whore was also expecting. If it were a son than all would be lost. He had managed the Concubine's pregnancies before, and they had all come to nothing, a daughter and a miscarriage. But this time, so much more was at stake for Princess Mary's pregnancy meant she was no longer pure. It would be far more difficult to not only place her on the throne but to find her a suitable royal marriage. Even if Princess Mary's child was a son, something he had to admit might weigh in her favor against the Concubine if she miscarried or had a girl, he would still have to countenance George Boleyn as her husband. No something must be done, he would have to speak with the Duke of Suffolk tomorrow and see if some plan might be devised to hasten the removal of that devil's spawn of a family.

* * *

><p>The morning after the King's arrival Mary sat in the study that had been built as part of the renovations going over the accounts that George's steward had prepared. Her father, George and several other members of the court had left early to go hunting so she was largely left to her own devises. She was enjoying a few pleasant minutes alone, at least until a servant entered, bowed and announced the presence of the Queen. While she might have like to dash and hide, or come up with some convenient excuse for why she could not entertain Anne, she could not, so she braced herself as she stood and made her bow.<p>

"Lady Mary." Anne's voice was light and motioned for Mary to rise. She smiled, and Mary could well believe that this was a woman who could charm anyone. "Thank you so much for welcoming us all into your home."

"It is my pleasure your majesty. And may I offer you my congratulations." Mary returned the smile, remembering her promise to George.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate it and I return that with congratulations of my own." Anne then took Mary's hand and led her back to the settee where they both arranged themselves. "And how are you feeling? I do believe one's first pregnancy is the most difficult."

"Indeed, your majesty is kind to ask, I am well though. My lady's maid and midwife have been most attentive."

"I am glad to hear it. You know how much your father worries for your health, you must write to him more often and update him on your progress. Now that he knows you are with child he will be most concerned that you are well provided for."

Mary was perplexed. Here Anne was not only being solicitous for her well-being but suggesting she increase her contact with the King. After all Anne had done for her recently, convincing the King to allow her to see her mother and refurbishing Kimbolton, Mary realized she must reconsider her reflexive belief that everything Anne did was some trick.

"Thank you, your majesty, I will make sure I write more often. How are you progressing?" Mary decided she would match Anne's warmth with her own. Perhaps the more she pretended it, the more she would eventually feel it.

"Very well, thank you. The first two months were difficult, as I'm sure you know all too well, but now – now I feel much more myself again." Anne let out a pleased sigh and patted her belly. "You know I have found ginger root to be a very good aid for some of the ailments in the first few months. Has your midwife recommended it?"

"Yes, she has and I have found it most effective."

The two continued to pass the next few hours in companionable conversation, mainly about their respective pregnancies, but also about the refurbishment of Beaulieu. But eventually, Anne let out a yawn, which she covered by her hand.

"My apologies, Lady Mary, believe me it was no comment on the company." Mary smiled understandingly, she herself was feeling quite tired. "Perhaps we would both be refreshed by a rest."

"I believe that is an excellent idea. Shall I walk you to your chambers?"

"Thank you, but I think I've trespassed long enough upon your kindness." Mary mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Her time with Anne had not been horrible, but she doubted she could maintain the appearance of equanimity for much longer. Anne stood and moved to the door but stopped before she opened it, without looking back at Mary she began to speak. "My brother is good man and it is clear he loves you a great deal."

"As I do him." Mary replied.

"I do not believe he would bestow his affections on someone with a weak character or poor morals."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

"I have done you great wrong. I shall in the future endeavor to do better by you." Anne said softly.

"You have done much already."

"It can never be enough." Anne then left the room before Mary could make any reply. It was strange, and something about Anne seemed truly regretful. She took up some embroidery for a few minutes before exhaustion overcame her and she decided to return to her room to rest.

* * *

><p>As she fell asleep Mary began to dream. She was sitting in a chair on a dais, like a judge and before her stood Anne and George. The looked frightened and were imploring Mary to save them, from what she did not know. Chapuys was standing besides her whispering into her ear, telling her that they were guilty, that George was unworthy of her that they had betrayed her when suddenly he transformed into a great serpent hissing and spitting at her. The snake then turned and started slithering towards Anne and George encircling them and bearing its great fangs threatening to strike. Mary raced down from the dais, screaming at it. The snake turned toward her and with a low voice hissed at her to stay away. Before she could get much father it struck at George, leaving him bleeding and in agony. She grabbed a large sword raced forwards and with all her might swung at the snake's head taking it off in one blow. At this, Mary woke in a cold sweat, shaking with tears streaming down her face. Such a strange dream, such horrible and painful things it seemed to portend.<p>

There was a sudden knock on the door that made Mary jump. "Who is it?"

"It is me, may I come in?" It was George's voice, which calmed her.

"Yes, please." Mary said.

George opened the door and walked over to the bed, his brow furrowed in concern. "Are you feeling well love? You are quite pale."

"Yes, I am quite well, I've only had a bad dream." He sad beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"Do you wish to tell me about it?"

"I was a sitting on a dais and you and Anne stood as in judgment before me, scared and unsure. Chapuys was beside me, whispering horrible, evil things about you, when he suddenly turned into a great, horrible snake that that bite you. I had to take a sword and dispatch it."

"It was only a dream love. See? I am still here, and in tact with no holes from vicious Imperial snakes."

"I was so afraid."

"I am sure, but you were very brave too. Imagine taking off a snake's head with one blow, one would think it was you who had St. George as a name sake." George chuckled at his own joke as Mary snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"What do you think this dream portends?"

"I do not know, but perhaps I shall have Tommy search the house for snakes." Mary smiled. "There now, I have a smile from you. Now, I believe that a very large banquet is to be laid this evening with our kill from this morning's hunt."

"It was a good hunt then?"

"Very good, a most refreshing ride as well."

"I'm glad to hear it. What shall I wear this evening do you think?"

"Well, I am always partial to the red silk, which I believe Mistress Keppel let out."

"The red silk it is then.

"Now, I shall leave you to dress, and banish all thoughts of snakes from your head." He kissed her temple and left to his own chamber.

Mary knew that what she had seen was a dream, but perhaps she would be more cautious around Ambassador Chapuys than she had been heretofore, though it was sad to think that someone who had been a friend to her and her mother could become an enemy.

* * *

><p>The evening's revels swirled around the Duke as he stood in a corner listening to Ambassador Chapuy's hissing for the millionth time about the need to bring down the Boleyns post haste. He had to admit that Princess Mary and Lady Anne's pregnancies had placed a decided obstacle in the way of his plans for the King would never leave Anne if he had hope of a male heir. But then again if Princess Mary was to give birth to a son, and Lady Anne miscarry or have another daughter…there was certainly room to maneuver. He had two options: either wait and see if Lady Anne carried to term and what she carried or find some way to ensure the result he wished.<p>

There were several options to ensure that the great harlot miscarried at which point he could place Lady Jane in front of the King, but what of Princess Mary? Even if Anne should fall and Princess Mary regain her position, even if she had a boy, that child would still have Boleyn blood in it. It would still be the child of George Boleyn and most likely raised a heretic by its father. No, if Anne were to miscarry, sadly Princess Mary would have to as well. But in that there was a problem. Any miscarriage came with dangers. While he was hardly concerned with the possibility of Lady Anne dying as a result, but Princess Mary? This was a puzzle indeed. They could not allow a Boleyn child to ascend the throne, whether by Lady Anne or Princess Mary, and yet he could not countenance potentially causing the death of Princess Mary.

The only other option was to continue with the plan to introduce Lady Jane to the King and hope that she would catch his eye and, upon becoming the King's mistress, sway him away from Lady Anne and back to the true faith.

* * *

><p>As a member of court Thomas Boleyn, Duke of Wiltshire, had dutifully followed the King to Beaulieu Palace. He knew his son had no particular longing to see him, they had barely spoken in the year since George had ordered him out. They had seen each other at Court when George attended but had exchanged few words and those abruptly. Thomas missed his son and it did hurt to be estranged from him. Contrary to what George and others seemed to believe, he was not a monster. He loved his children and sought only the best for them but this Court was treacherous and the King's favor was often fleeting. If one wished to advance, or even survive, you needed to use the gifts you had at your disposal and Anne was such a gift.<p>

When he arrived at Beaulieu it was easy to see the genuine affection between his son and Lady Mary. He was pleased. A lasting marriage between them would make it all the more difficult for their enemies to dislodge the Boleyn family from its lofty height. Hearing that Mary was with child, well what man would not be pleased to discover he was to be grandfather? Now he could be sure that one way or another his grandchild would sit on the throne of England. Should Anne fail, there was no need to worry, the King could always restore Mary to the succession and name her son the heir to the throne. He was sure that George would provide a firm hand by which to guide his wife and son. He felt a particular glee when he saw the look on both Ambassador Chapuys and Charles Brandon's faces. They looked as though they were sucking on a particularly bitter lemon.

He could see the completion of his plans, one way or another a grandson of his blood would sit on the throne of England and his family would be secure. Few men had dared so much nor come so close to completion.

* * *

><p>October 27, 1534 – Wolf Hall<p>

The next few days passed in a whirl of banquets and hunting parties but soon the royal party had moved on from Beaulieu to Wolf Hall. Anne had returned to Hampton Court to relax until she entered her confinement while the rest of the party had travelled on. Now safely ensconced in the confines of the Seymour family home for the past two days, the Duke of Suffolk surveyed the scene at the banquent. His mind had not misled him when he thought that sweet milk-faced Jane Seymour would be the anti-dote to Anne. Even now, as she waited on the King sitting next to him at the table as the hostess, he seemed enchanted. Her meek, blushing smiles and attentiveness seemed to draw him in. She rarely spoke, made no daring witticisms as Anne would, but simply listened, occasionally marking the King's comments with exclamation or compliment.

Yes, this would do well, Brandon thought. Jane has charmed the King and soon she will have the power to win him away from that whore. Perhaps, if Anne were unfortunate enough to miscarry or give birth to a daughter as she had before, the King would even be open to doing away with her and install Jane as Queen.

As the evening wore on Brandon watched as Sir John was called to the King's side while Jane was attending to one of her sisters. The King whispered in Sir John's ear, who seemed eminently pleased with what he heard, and made a deep bow to the King before he dashed over to him.

"Your Grace." Sir John made a slight bow in reverence to the Duke's advanced position. "I believe that your plans are taking hold. The King has just now asked that Jane join the Queen's ladies-in-waiting in time for Twelfth Night ."

"Very good, Sir John, very good. Now, all we need do is see to it that she keeps his attention. She should remain attentive, but modest and of course never accept any gifts from His Majesty. If he should send some to her, she should return them with her thanks and stating that she is unworthy of such tokens."

"She is well aware of her duty, Your Grace, and I can promise you when it comes time she shall bait the hook well."

"Indeed. Sir John." Brandon gave Sir John a slight nod and then walked up to the dais where the King sat, watching Lady Jane dance with her younger brother Thomas.

"Well Charles, what do you think of her?" The King smiled as he gazed at the dancers.

"She is very pretty Your Majesty." Brandon thought not to over praise her, lest the King suspect that he was hoping to draw him in. "And seems like quite a modest young lady as well."

"Yes, yes." The King nodded his head. "She is everything a _proper_ young English lady should be." Brandon smiled inwardly. There was no doubt in his mind that the King's sentiment was largely directed at Anne's noted preference for everything French. The dance had finished as the two were speaking. "And now, if you don't mind, Charles, I am going to ask that charming young English rose for a dance."

"Absolutely, your Majesty." Charles bowed as the King rose from the dais and walked to Lady Jane who blushed and curtsied modestly, keeping her eyes down, when the King asked her to dance. Indeed, the King seemed in better spirits than he had in quite a long time. Progress was at hand.

* * *

><p>December 20th 1534<p>

Anne sobbed quietly alone in her room. She was aware that the King had a wandering eye, he had found comfort with Lady Eleanor Luke during her last pregnancy. But something about his affection for Lady Jane Seymour was different, she seemed different. If nothing else because she seemed to have a family nearly as ambitious as her own, and more it was widely believed that the Seymours, though they had signed the Oaths, were not in favor of the King's reformation of the Church.

But politics aside, Anne felt desperate and afraid. The King seemed to be slipping away from her, all the love an affection he lavished upon her during their long courtship seemed but a distant memory these days. She didn't want to think that it was the birth of Elizabeth, her beautiful daughter, which had cooled his ardor. Perhaps her subsequent miscarriage had merely poured salt into that womb and led Henry to think she would fail him as the Dowager Princess had. The thought of a future, like Catherine's, exiled from Court separated from her child, abandoned to the world, frightened her and her tears became more intense. For a woman so surrounded by attendants at every moment, Anne had never felt more alone. Her sister was far from court with her husband, she did not want particularly to speak with her father, and George, well he had his responsibilities elsewhere.

Thinking of George brought to mind her step-daughter, the Lady Mary. She had promised George she would be kinder to Mary, and they had got on well, for all their past turmoil, when she had visited in October. With that thought, Anne decided to take pen and paper and send Mary a note with the compliments of the holiday season and inquiring about her health. Perhaps she could even send along with the note a pleasant little gift both for Mary and the child, after it was born. With her mind resolved, she dried her eyes and decided her best defense was simply to carry her child to term and focus on warming her relationship with Mary.

_My Dear Lady Mary,_

_My best greetings to you during this festive season. I hope that you and my dear brother are doing well. How is the weather in the country? Do you have much snow? We are fair snowed in here at Richmond and look to be for quite some time, though Court is quite full of people so we do not lack for amusement and my ladies and I are also kept quite busy sewing shirts. _

_I also wanted to send you particular thanks for the delightful little poppet and bed you sent to my sweet little Elizabeth. Perhaps when we are both past our confinements you might make the journey to Court as I am sure his majesty would love to see both his daughters by his side, as well as his grandchild. While it is quite early, perhaps you would care for the child to join Elizabeth's household? It could be quite charming for Elizabeth to have her little niece or nephew in the nursery with her for company, particularly if it would mean that she could see more of her dear sister. Both myself and his majesty could not be more anxious to have you more frequently at Court. _

_With best wishes,_

_Anne_

Anne satisfied herself that the letter was everything solicitous and warm, even purposely leaving out her title should it rankle, sealed it and called for a page. That done she sighed and looked about her. Seeing little else about, she took up her needlework.

* * *

><p>December 27, 1534 – Beaulieu Palace<p>

At five months gone, Mary's stomach had begun to swell and fill out, while she was frequently tired, she was glad that George had delayed his return to Court to keep her company. Sometimes though, she thought he might have a bit too much care for her. He seemed to fear the littlest thing, frequently insisting that the cook check the food to ensure that it was well cooked, and often worrying if she did not have someone assist her in using the stairs. But there were ample consolations as well. It seemed George's newest favorite pastime was lying with her in bed in the mornings with his hand on her stomach, believing each little flutter was a kick. The word had spread to the tenants who were also enthusiastic about the impending arrival of the Lord and Lady's child.

She was even surprised to have been receiving frequent letters from her mother since she had announced her pregnancy. It appeared that she had resolved to overlook the baby's paternity and focus on her future as a grandmother. Katherine's letters were full of advice on the pregnancy and parenting. She answered Mary's questions as to whether certain things were normal or cause for concern.

This morning, however, Mary was preoccupied by a letter she had received from Anne. While on the surface the letter appeared to be everything warm and solicitous, Mary could sense an uneasiness, almost desperation, even loneliness underlying it. Perhaps it was the fact of the letter that gave her this feeling. Anne had not written to her alone before. Most letters were directed to George, with generous compliments to Mary, but none directed to her alone. That combined with her twice mentioning her desire to have Mary at Court made her suspicious that all was not well. She was reminded of that strange dream she had months ago and decided she should speak to George. Perhaps it she could made do without George for a few weeks so that Anne could have the consolation of his presence. Then, Mary wondered if sending George to Court could place him in harms way if indeed Anne was in danger, for if one member of the Boleyn family fell, could there be a play by those who opposed them to topple the whole clan?


End file.
